


Forget What You Thought

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Language Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: "Tishy know a guy who know a guy who have party tonight," Geno says, grinning. "LA turn him into starfucker." Tanger snorts, shaking his hair out hard enough to splatter Horny with sweat. Sid glances over at the wrestling match that breaks out, digging his nails under his sock tape. All of them are officially too old for this kind of behavior, but Sid still grins when Tanger goes down hard on the ground, Horny following right after him. "We go?"





	Forget What You Thought

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this idea bouncing around in my head for awhile now, and I will admit to missing old Bandom just a little. So! Here it is, hope you all like it, and a huge thank you to wjgravity for letting me talk at them until I could remember how to make the words go.
> 
> For those of you that didn't spend 10 years crying about the Emo Trinity and their associates [this](https://assets.rbl.ms/2578430/980x.jpg) is the [lovely](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/94/2e/c6/942ec677a1649f2556712e7b26740d80.jpg), classy [Gabriel Saporta](http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/UJA+Federation+2010+Music+Visionary+Year+Award+GNcKOBEQySbl.jpg).
> 
> Now with a shiny album cover by [topcopbobrovsky](https://topcopbobrovsky.tumblr.com) located [here](https://topcopbobrovsky.tumblr.com/post/167682838126/art-for-the-wonderful-forget-what-you-thought-by)! Go re-blog and love it.

LA is the kind of place Sid never really feels settled in, no matter how many times he visits. It's nice, sure, but it's always too warm in the dead of winter, and everyone is in a big enough rush to get somewhere else that Sid feels antsy with all the excess energy floating around. The Kings are good though, and it's always fun to play them when everyone's on. They make it hard to win, but the victory is always so much sweeter because of it. 

The game ends tight, a 2-1 that sounds unimpressive, but was maybe some of the best hockey Sid's seen in weeks. His body still thinks it's early, the time change severe enough from home that he's more amped up than tired. He thinks about finding Carts and going out for the night. They really don't keep in touch as much as they used to, not since Carts got married and had a kid, but Sid still likes catching up. Plus, almost no one in LA cares about either one of them to recognize them. It's one of California's few perks.

The bench jostles as Geno thumps down onto it. His half-undone pads reek, due for a wash sooner rather than later, and when he lifts his hand to show off the screen of his phone, Sid pulls away from the stench. He should be used to it by now, but pad funk is still something that makes even his stomach churn. Geno laughs at him and takes his phone back. Sid makes a note to himself to talk to the laundry people about doubling down on washing. They need it. 

"Tishy know a guy who know a guy who have party tonight," Geno says, grinning. "LA turn him into starfucker." Tanger snorts, shaking his hair out hard enough to splatter Horny with sweat. Sid glances over at the wrestling match that breaks out, digging his nails under his sock tape. All of them are officially too old for this kind of behavior, but Sid still grins when Tanger goes down hard on the ground, Horny following right after him. "We go?"

"Hate to break it to you, G, but hockey players aren't A-listers," Phil says. 

"You not A-lister," Geno corrects. "I'm big deal everywhere." He grabs his crotch through his under layers, the bench creaking a little when he gives an exaggerated thrust up into it. Sid, who has seen Geno naked almost as much as he's seen him in clothes, knows that he can at least back that claim up. Geno ignores everything else Phil says, stripping out of his shoulder pads and humming loud enough to drown the words out. He grabs Sid's wrist when Sid heads towards the shower. "We go to party?"

"Sure." It's not quite what he'd been wanting to do, but he can always duck out early if he doesn't feel like staying out. Geno grins and shoves him toward the showers. 

\---

Tishy doesn't show up, but his name is good enough to get into the club. Sid's already too hot in his polo and jeans and the humid air of too many bodies in a small space presses in on them immediately. The music's loud, mostly electronic noise that Sid has no interest in whatsoever, but everyone is cheerful and working on getting drunk if they're not already there. Geno plows through the crowd easily and Sid follows in the space he's left behind him until they find a table big enough for the six of them that have come out. 

It's an easy, well worn dance. Jake, as the newest to the group, disappears towards the bar with their order,Tanger loudly reminding him to bring his ID, and the rest of them do their best to squeeze into their seats. Soon, they'll probably lose Olli and Dumo to the crush of people dancing in the middle of the floor. Tanger, for all the shit he gives Sid about being the lonely, boring coat watcher, has started to stay at the tables more and more, a base for the team to meet back up when they're done with whatever they're doing. 

Geno mocks him mercilessly for it, but Kris just holds up his phone and shows off the photo he'd taken of Catherine in the pool behind their house, Alex cuddled up asleep beside her. Sid, who isn't even into women, knows she's hot. Geno sighs and shakes his head, but lets the subject drop. He'll probably abandon all of them to hookup with a starlet in an hour or so. 

Sid spends a good part of the night watching Jake- "Babying him, Sid. He's an adult."- and laughing at Olli every time he drops back by the table to snag a beer. He's thin skinned, and even just the bizarre grind that's apparently called dancing around here has left him red-faced and turned his hair into a sweaty mess. Still, he's got a smear of ruby red lipstick on one cheek and has already asked twice about bus call in the morning. 

"They grow up so fast," Geno tells Jake and most of the club. Volume control has never been his strong suit. He throws an arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him in. Jake looks a little wild-eyed, but the rest of them are used to this. Geno's always affectionate, but putting any sort of alcohol into him turns him into a clingy, sweaty octopus. "Soon, you leave sad old team behind for girls, too." Jake doesn't seem to know what to do, his head mostly stuck under Geno's armpit, and Sid finally takes pity on him. 

"I'm gonna grab more drinks," he says. "G, let the rookie go." 

"I am old man," Geno says morosely, leaning back in the booth. His arm loosens around Jake's neck, but he's still taking up more than his fair share of room. Sid learned a long time ago that if he doesn't want to be smashed against Geno's side for the whole night, he has to take the other side of the table. The kids will learn soon enough. "Have to give advice. Teach rookie how to be good adult." Tanger snorts into his bottle before immediately jerking back. Beer sloshes onto the table as it shakes. Probably, Sid should stop them from kicking each other like kindergarteners, but mostly he just- he really, really loves his team. 

Sid is a big man. People always seem surprised when they meet him, like they had expected someone not as tall, not as wide. He doesn't really get it- no matter what the guys say, 5' 11 is _tall_ \- but he doesn't really think about it. Usually, it's a good thing. Here, in the cramped club, he can't move forward without banging into at least two people at all times. He mutters a non-stop string of apologies as he wiggles toward the bar, swiping blindly at a hand that gets too familiar with the waistband of his jeans. 

By the time he's actually at the bar, the idea of carrying back anything to the table is laughable. Tanger will probably call him an asshole for leaving them high and dry, but Sid's not going to risk shattering something because he'd been juggling too many bottles. The rest of them can do the horrific march themselves. He leans over the bar, hands carefully kept away from the sticky top, and does his best to wave the bartender over.

Before he manages it, someone's sliding in next to him, bumping gently into his shoulder. Sid looks up and up a little more. The guy is easily as tall as Geno, if only half as wide. He's in jeans and a t-shirt that looks nicely fitted, if a little casual compared to everyone else. He smiles, his cheekbones high and all his teeth showing, and Sid glances over his shoulder. No one's paying attention because this is LA, and no one gives a shit about Sid in LA. 

"I've been told to buy you Molson," the guy says, leaning in close so Sid can hear. "I really, really hope that's not what you drink." It isn't, but it's enough that Sid's got his suspicions on who sent the guy over. He tries to look back toward the table, but there are too many bodies and not enough lights. 

"What if I do?" Sid asks. The guy grins and holds out a hand. It's warm and just as big as Sid's, his fingers pressing briefly against Sid's wrist when Sid takes it. It's openly flirty in a way Sid isn't used to with guys. 

"I'll have to buy you a shot to wash the taste out," the guy says. Sid laughs, just a little, and the guy squeezes Sid's hand. "Gabe."

"Sid. I'll take a Guinness." 

"Good man," Gabe says. Somehow, he manages to actually get the bartender's attention and orders for them. Sid should probably thank him, grab the beer, and escape back to check on Jake and Dumo, but- but he never gets to pick up at home, and Gabe's not classically handsome, but he's long and lean and has a goofy smile. Sid knows what he likes and Gabe is hitting a lot of his buttons. 

Gabe leads them to a roped off section in the back of the club. He doesn't say anything to the bouncer, just nods and gives him a passing fist bump. Sid feels weird following after him- he's never liked VIP sections, and he's not totally sure who Gabe is to even have access to a VIP section- but the area is less crowded and once they reach the back, the music no longer loud enough to make Sid's ears hurt anymore. 

"You a big shot or something?" Sid asks as he settles down onto the soft cushion of one of the couches shoved in the corner. He does his best not to look down at it. He's heard too many backroom stories to be comfortable knowing. Gabe laughs. It makes his nose crinkle up the same way Sid's does, but the sound that comes out is infinitely less stupid. 

"Or something," Gabe agrees. 

Gabe's a vegetarian, doesn't put much stock in his fitness routine, and is from New Jersey by way of Uruguay. They're not great points in his favor, but he's charming and fluctuates easily from serious conversation to the same sort of prodding and teasing Sid's been part of since he was old enough to talk. It's nice. He doesn't know a damn thing about hockey, but he seems charmed by Sid's exuberance, which is a happy change of pace. 

"I'll watch this sport thing of yours," Gabe says, leaning in closer. His knee knocks against Sid's, friendly, and one big hand comes to rest on the back of Sid's neck, Gabe's thumb pressing just a little into the muscle there. That's definitely more than friendly. "If you dance with me." 

"I'm giving you the chance to get into something awesome," Sid says, even as he sets his beer down on the table closest to them. He probably shouldn't drink anymore anyway. He's reached the fuzzy, bubbly point of tipsy, and nothing but headaches and vomiting will come from pushing himself further. "You're giving me the chance to look like a jackass. That's not really a fair trade." Gabe's hand tightens just a little on Sid's neck, his fingertips sinking in, and Sid does his best not to be too obvious about the breath he sucks in. 

"Up and at 'em, Sid," Gabe says, hopping to his feet and holding out a hand. Sid takes it. He probably shouldn't. There aren't nearly as many people back here as there were in the main part of the bar, but everyone's always got their phones on, and it only takes once, but- Gabe doesn't seem bothered, and he clearly knows the area. "Good man."

Gabe turns his head towards where the DJ booth is set up on a riser. There's a man behind it, head nodding along to the music, oversized headphones wrapped around his neck. Sid doesn't understand why he's got them at all if he's not using them, but he's not even allowed to play Ipod DJ in the locker room. The last time he'd tried, Geno had sat on him and made him watch as he deleted every last Our Lady Peace song in the music library. "Wentz!" 

Gabe does some sort of elaborate hand signal exchange with the DJ, both of their bodies flailing around. It's weird, but Gabe seems totally unselfconscious about it. Sid has been in the public eye since he was a child. He's always envied people that just- don't care. Eventually, the song over the speakers change and Gabe nods his head toward the dancefloor. 

Sid doesn't know how to dance. It's not a skill he needs or particularly wants. He'd always been too busy to go to school dances, and he figures that whatever he would have learned there wouldn't be applicable in a club anyway. Flower and Vero had tried to teach him once, when Sid had been barely nineteen, Flower calling out instructions while Sid tried not to put his hands anywhere awkward on Vero's body. At the end, she'd laughed and kissed his burning cheek and told him that maybe he'd traded in his sense of rhythm for better slapshots. Vero, Sid has long since decided, is way too good for someone like Flower. All of the WAGs are too good for their men, and Sid doesn't understand any of them.

Gabe doesn't seem to care either way about Sid's awkward flailing. He gets up into Sid's personal space, hunched over just enough that Sid doesn't have to crane back to look at him. His hands are warm when he sets them on Sid's hips, his fingers tapping out the bright, hoppy rhythm of the music. It makes it easier to follow along. Sid rests his arms on Gabe's shoulders and goes with it. It takes him a minute to realize that the voice pumping through the speakers is Gabe's. 

"A singer?" He asks. Gabe laughs and leans in closer, his lips brushing against Sid's ear as he sings along to the chorus. Apparently, he makes good girls go bad. Sid snorts, unattractive and dumb, but Gabe's grinning when he pulls back. His grin gets wider when Sid doesn't move away from the hand that sneaks down to grab his ass. 

They aren't dancing so much as they are taking up each other's space, Gabe's skinny thighs on either side of one of Sid's, the bassline guiding their awkward sway. The hand on Sid's ass pulls, dragging Sid's hips into Gabe's, and Sid's dick decides it's definitely interested. He realizes, belatedly, that he can't make fun of Olli's grind moves anymore. Apparently they really do work. 

"I live close," Gabe says, voice raised over the music. Sid dips his fingers into the waistband of Gabe's jeans, feels the sharp jut of his hip. He probably shouldn't. He's definitely going to. "You wanna go?" 

"Let me get my stuff," Sid says, laughing when Gabe gooses him. It's been four months since Sid has gotten off with anyone but himself, and his skin is prickling with the anticipation. 

As he's turning the corner from the VIP section to the regular bar, he bounces into Geno, Geno's fast reflexes the only thing saving them both from a beer shower. Geno is a little sweaty, his shirt turned dark in little patches on his chest and sides, and he smells like tequila when he pulls Sid into a hug. 

"You miss shots," Geno shouts into Sid's ear. Whoever takes him back to the hotel is going to definitely have their hands full. Sid twists his hips so Geno doesn't feel his lingering half-chub and tries to figure out how to leave without being a dick. "Where you go?"

"Tanger introduced me to someone," Sid says, which is the complete truth. "I've been in the VIP lounge." Geno laughs and Sid uses it as a distraction to disentangle himself.

"LA turn you into starfucker, too?" Geno asks. Sid squirms. 

"Maybe," he says, scrubbing at the back of his neck, which feels warm under his palm. "I'm gonna go. Drink water with that. Please don't puke in public." He makes his getaway before Geno can question him. Hopefully, he'll have forgotten all about it in the morning. 

Sid stops by the table to grab his jacket. Tanger's grinning at him from behind the rim of his glass, eyebrows raised. Sid flips him off and tugs his coat on, patting his pockets to check for his keycard and wallet and phone. He doesn't see Jake, but Dumo's leaning over the back of the booth talking to someone at the table next to theirs, his voice carrying over the music. Olli is passed out on the table. This is not the first time, and it probably won't be the last. One day, he'll learn not to let Geno goad him into those last two shots. 

"Get some water into the kids before you take them home," Sid says. Dumo flings out a hand to hit him, but lands a smack to the back of Olli's head instead. Olli jerks upright, blinking up at Sid for a moment before laying his face back down against the table. He's going to have a shitty flight home. 

"Aye, Captain," Tanger says, raising his hand in a lazy salute. "Don't do anything I wouldn't." Sid ignores him. He's going to get laid and Kris was at least partially responsible. Plus, dealing with Olli and Geno is going to be enough punishment for one night. 

Outside, Sid tucks his hands into his pockets and walks past the line of people still waiting to get in. It's easy enough to find Gabe at the taxi stand. It's just like any other night, any other place, when Sid slides into the back of a cab with Gabe. Then Gabe curls his fingers over Sid's wrist, his nails scraping over the skin, and Sid sucks in a sharp breath. 

"Eres demasiado caliente para tu propio bien," Gabe says, leaned in close enough that Sid can feel the warmth of his breath against his ear. He shivers a little, Gabe's smooth, rolling accent hitting him square in the gut. "Tu jodida boca, hombre."

Sid knows exactly three words in Spanish, but it doesn't matter. Gabe's voice is low and hot, his meaning clear even if his words aren't. Gabe keeps up the commentary the whole way to his house, his lips pressed to Sid's ear, his fingers flirting with the zipper of Sid's jeans. Sid can't help checking up on the cabbie every few minutes, but he either doesn't care or is just so used to people getting frisky in the backseat that he knows not to say anything. 

Sid is halfway to totally crazy when the taxi stops in front of a big purple house. It's garish and a little hideous, but it seems to fit Gabe pretty well. Gabe hands a few bills up to the driver through the gap in the seats as he shoves Sid out of the car, and Sid is barely even tipsy anymore, but he still giggles like a fifteen year old girl anyway. 

When they get into the house, Sid kicks off his shoes- a habit so deeply ingrained that he doesn't even think about it anymore- and fists a hand in Gabe's shirt, yanking him in. Gabe barely weighs anything. It's easy to grab a handful of ass and lift up. Gabe laughs, curling those long, long legs around Sid's thighs. 

He's too tall to kiss this way, but the jut of his Adam's apple is right there to lick, so Sid does, chasing the sweat-salt-booze taste of his skin. Gabe's still laughing, but it's breathy and sharp, his chest pressing against Sid's as he pulls in deep breaths. He's wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, warm from being so close to his skin. Sid sets his teeth around it and bites down. 

"Room's upstairs," Gabe says. He kicks a heel against Sid's ass. "Let's go."

\---

Sid wakes up to soft voices. He tenses up before he realizes it's just the news, the anchors' voices low enough he can't really make out the words. He stretches, his back popping. He feels fantastic. When he opens one eye to test the light of Gabe's room, he's met with the long, long stretch of Gabe's torso instead. 

"Hey," Gabe says softly. He's sleep warm, his legs folded enough that one sharp knee threatens to poke Sid in the side. He's got his phone in one hand, a mug of coffee cradled in the other. His hair stands in weird angles away from his head, the gel from the night before dried into bizarre twists and curves. He's still hot. It's unfair. Sid can feel the places that his own hair is standing up, and he's pretty sure he mostly just looks like a mess. "Did you know you talk about hockey in your sleep?" Sid groans and drops his arm over his eyes. "There's dedication to the job, and then there's _dedication_."

"Please don't," Sid says. It's too early in the morning to deal with bullshit. Gabe laughs and the sound of his phone and mug being set down follows soon after. The bed shifts as Gabe stretches out next to him and Sid risks looking over at him. Gabe's grinning, eyebrows raised, his cheekbones like knives in the leak of light from between the curtains. 

"It's cute," Gabe says. He slides a hand over Sid's chest, warm from his coffee, and Sid decides to let the sleep talk thing pass. He's got to be out soon to meet back up with the team, but he can definitely have a quickie if he skips the shower. Sex smell wouldn't be the worst thing he's ever put his teammates through. 

Gabe gives him a lazy blowjob hidden under the covers, his hands tight over Sid's thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to hurt. Sid closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it. He doesn't get laid enough during the season, and Gabe's mouth is hot and slick and _good_. After, Sid returns the favor. Fair is fair. 

"Pittsburgh is a fucking long way away," Gabe says after he's come, patting Sid's stomach weakly. "I'm not saying I'm a booty call away, but want to try to hook up if we're in the same city?" 

"Yeah. That'd be good," Sid says. He doubts he'll see Gabe again, but the idea of a low-key hookup in LA just a call away is kind of nice. Maybe in the summer when he comes back to train. Gabe grins and kicks him out of bed. 

Sid has to hustle to get back to the hotel in time, but Gabe sends him off with a travel mug of coffee- which has a hideously rendered cartoon cobra on the front- and a banana. The banana is probably supposed to be a joke, but Sid still scarfs it down in the cab. He's starving and all he's got to look forward to is whatever the airport has to offer. 

\---

Geno's a monster the whole morning. He doesn't talk to anyone at the airport- not even Shearsy, who brings him a muffin as a peace offering. Sid watches, confused as Geno brushes him off. Conor is, by far, Geno's favorite rookie. Usually he's too busy mother-henning over him to let the rest of them get a word in edgewise, but whatever's pissed him off has apparently overruled that instinct. Sid avoids him, still riding on the high of morning sex. He doesn't know when he'll get his next afterglow. He wants this one to last. 

Olli, as predicted, is slumped in a miserable ball, hat pulled low over his eyes and skin the sort of green that only hangovers can produce. Sid sighs and goes the long way around the waiting area to get two cups of coffee and sticky glazed donuts that will probably make him feel sick while they're flying. He hands off half of his goods to Olli, who grunts a thanks and proceeds to shrink even further in on himself until they're called to board. 

When they finally take off, Sid leans over the aisle and elbows Tanger to get his attention.

"Thanks for last night," Sid says, because he was raised to be polite and Tanger had done him a solid. 

"You definitely have a type," Tanger says, eyeing him in a way that makes Sid want to cross his arms over his chest. "Also, you owe me for leaving me alone with the kids to get your dick sucked." 

"You had Geno." Sid's face feels hot, but he's not going to give into the embarrassment. It's not like Tanger didn't know exactly what he was doing, but that doesn't mean he has to say it out loud. Tanger snorts and shakes his head. 

"I really did not," he says. Sid glances back at Geno, who's still radiating waves of irritation, and wonders what got him so hot. He'd seemed fine when Sid left, but Geno knows how to pick fights like the best of them. "I'll take my payment in babysitting." 

Sid agrees before Tanger can take it back. Alex is cooler than his dad by a long shot. 

\---

Gabe texts him sometimes. It's never anything too wild, usually just photos of stuff around LA or New York that he thinks Sid might like. In return, Sid sends him back photos of Pittsburgh- the bridges, which never get old, the lift that climbs the mountains, a sneaky video of Flower trying and failing to climb into the rafters after they lose yet another soccer ball. It's nice. It's kind of like texting Geno, actually, if he ignores the occasional dick pic. 

Sid's squinting down at the latest photo Gabe's sent him, horrified and intrigued at the same time. Gabe had sworn up and down that his friend Pete had gotten a tattoo of Gabe's fat little kid face a few years ago, but Sid had chalked it up to him exaggerating. Apparently, he had been wrong. The tattoo is god-awful. 

"Taylor?" Geno asks as he plops down on the bench, nodding to Sid's phone. He wipes the back of his wrist over his forehead and makes a face when the sweat smears into his eyes. He does it at least once a week, and Sid laughs at him just like he does every time. Geno leans in closer to see the photo and Sid hits the lock button on autopilot. It isn't anything incriminating, but just having it there feels like he's doing something underhanded. 

"No," he says, ignoring the confused look Geno gives him. He tucks his phone into his bag and jerks his Under Armour over his head. He has a commercial filming in an hour, which is just enough time to shower, drive over, and get made up. He really, really hates getting made up. The powder they put on him always makes him sneeze. 

"You doing photos?" Geno asks. 

The bench groans a little as Geno shifts on it, pulling off his own under layers. He's barechested when Sid turns back around, his shoulders slick with sweat and his hair pushed away from his face in big spikes. The gold of his chain makes his skin look darker, and Sid's struck with the urge to reach out and touch. It's probably because he's been texting Gabe, and Gabe means sex. It's not a long leap.

"Sid?" Geno asks. 

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Reebok today, I think?" They all blur together. Stand. Smile. Don't smile. Be intense. Not that intense. He will never, ever understand what the marketing teams are doing with his face or why, but a contract is a contract, so he shows up and does his best. 

"Come over when you done?" Geno asks. He shoves his tights down and chucks them towards the team hamper. They miss, and Sid makes a mental note to pick them up when he throws his own clothes in. Somehow, he always ends up taking care of picking up after the boys, but Geno seems to take unholy delight in watching Sid do his housework for him. "I buy Deadpool. Eat tacos, watch movie?"

"Sure," Sid says. He spends so much time in Geno's house that he's got his own drawer in one of the guest rooms, extra underpants and sleep clothes stashed away just in case he needs them. It's no secret that he doesn't like to be alone, and Geno is always more than accommodating. Sometimes, Sid thinks that underneath the bravado and posturing, Geno is just as lonely as he is. "No tongue."

"I buy once!" Geno throws up his hands and storms towards the showers, neatly avoiding the camera set up by Horny's stall. Jen keeps threatening him with a cover for the ESPN body issue if he's so insistent on flashing the cameras. Sid thinks that with Geno as a feature it would probably sell out.

The shoot is just as boring as Sid had thought it would be. He holds his poses as best as he can and repeats his lines when he's told to. Flower will never let him forget that he has an Emmy, the one award he feels he didn't deserve, and it's in the back of his mind as he attempts to act. It's not great, but the director is happy enough.

Sid scrubs the makeup off in the bathroom of the studio and heads straight to Geno's in his ratty sweats. Traffic leaving the city always sucks, but he pulls into the driveway just as the food delivery person is leaving. He doesn't bother knocking, just walks in and takes off his shoes and hangs his keys up on one of the hooks in the front hall. He locks the door behind himself because Geno never remembers to and follows his nose to the den. 

Geno is sprawled out on the couch in a pair of basketball shorts, his feet kicked up on the arm, phone held above his face. He hasn't opened the delivery bags yet, but just the smell of steak and cheese has Sid's stomach grumbling. He used to think he would grow out of the constant hunger pains of his youth, but he'd been so wrong. 

"Feed me," he says, shoving Geno's feet off the cushion and settling in. Geno's couch is so much more comfortable than the one Sid's got, and it's already so stained from Geno's revolving door of guests and friends that Sid doesn't feel bad eating on it. 

"I buy only tongue tacos," Geno says. He rolls over and rips open one of the paper bags. The TV already has the movie loaded up, the opening scene frozen on the screen. "Best for Sidney Crosby."

"You're such a dick," Sid says, because it's true. Geno grins at him and passes over a styrofoam container. 

Sid stuffs himself on tacos and rice. The movie is good. He keeps choking on his food, laughter stopping him from eating, and eventually Geno confiscates his food and sticks it onto the armchair where Sid can't reach. It's probably for the best. He's exhausted from practice and the only thing really keeping him awake is Geno's running commentary on the movie. Sid's cheeks hurt from laughing, and he usually hates when people talk during movies, but Geno is clever and hilarious when he stops worrying about how good his English is and just lets go. 

Sid wakes up with his head in Geno's lap, _Guardians of the Galaxy_ on the TV instead of _Deadpool_. Geno's fingers are scratching through Sid's hair absently, his arm a heavy weight on Sid's shoulder. Sid lets himself drift in and out of sleep, flashes of the movie the only thing giving him a sign that time has passed. 

When he wakes up for real, the sun is starting to set. Geno's chest is rising slow and steady under his head and the hand in his hair has gone limp, Geno's fingertips tickling the skin just behind Sid's ear. Sid turns his face into Geno's thigh and yawns. He's going to sleep like shit when he gets home. Reluctantly, he slides out from under Geno's arm and stands up. His back pops when he stretches, which mostly makes him feel old. 

"G," Sid says, carefully shaking Geno's shoulder. Geno swats weakly at him, covering his face with his arm. Sid shoves his shoulder again. "Come on. If you don't wake up now, you're not going to get to sleep tonight."

"Stay asleep if you fuck off," Geno grumbles. Sid laughs and shoves one last time. Geno opens one eye and glares. 

"Come on. I'll figure out something for dinner." Sid wraps a hand around Geno's arm and yanks him up. 

Geno is a terrible cooking assistant, but at least he's good company. He talks about his mother's garden and his brother's work, listens to Sid repeat Taylor's stories about her team. Sid thinks he's made more meals in Geno's kitchen than his own. He likes the way it's laid out better, and Geno is a sucker for buying cooking contraptions he'll never use himself that Sid likes playing around with. Sid makes them worth the money spent.

It's a good night overall. 

\---

There will always be a part of Sid that gets maybe just a little too happy every time they beat the Leafs. He hasn't called himself a Habs fan in a long time, but some things never change. In a couple of years, they're going to be really good. For now, Sid's going to enjoy these five goal victories. 

The room is loud when he gets back. He strips out of his gear and pulls a hat on over his sweaty hair. He's about to settle down in his stall when a PA says he's got a visitor in the hall and five minutes before his interviews start. Sid doesn't know who could be out there, but he still steps quietly into the hall. He probably shouldn't be surprised to see Gabe in a Kings t-shirt that looks freshly purchased and a pair of jeans so full of holes they could be technically called fishnets, but it's a nice surprise at least. 

"Good game," Gabe says, reaching around to swat Sid on the ass. He grins. "I've always wanted to do that." 

"Glad I could help," Sid drawls. His shoulder hurts from catching a slapper off Hags' stick, but he's got the feeling he won't notice it at all soon. Gabe laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. "How long are you in town?"

"Until tomorrow afternoon," Gabe says. "I've got some recording stuff in Jersey for the next couple of weeks. Know any good places to sleep?" He leers in a way that should be creepy and unattractive, but Sid's dick still twitches a little. Probably that should worry him. 

"I've got some media stuff to do," Sid says, glancing over his shoulder at the hounds already rolling in. Some days, he wishes he could pull a Geno and pretend he doesn't know what anyone's saying. "Give me an hour? I'll text you my address." 

"Voy a joderte hasta que lloras," Gabe says, leaned in just far away enough to keep a professional appearance. He salutes and wanders off, his phone already in his hand, and Sid fights down the half chub swelling his his tights. 

He texts Gabe as soon as he's back in the locker room. He flies through his interviews and shower, fighting to get his suit on with still mostly damp skin. Flower gives him a weird look, but nobody says anything when he grabs his stuff and books it to the door. Sometimes, his reputation as a giant weirdo works in his favor. Sid learned a long time ago to press what advantages he has. He's two steps into the hallway when a long arm snakes out from _nowhere_ and hauls him backward. Sid freezes. He recognizes the smell of Geno's cologne before the knee-jerk reaction to yank away kicks in, but he still flinches. 

"You in big hurry?" Geno asks, shaking Sid by the shoulders. Somehow, he always manages to look bigger in his suit than he does in his gear. "Come to Carson Street with us. Muzz is buy first round. His dog piss on my car. I fine him with booze."

"I, uh-" Sid glances down the hall. Gabe should already be at his place, or really close to it at least. "I'm not feeling it. I think I'm just gonna go home."

"You so old," Geno says with a dramatic sigh. He squeezes Sid tighter, shaking his head. In the flourescent light of the hall, the scar high on his cheek looks almost fresh and Sid has to fight to not reach up to touch it. That would probably be weird, even for him. "Just one drink. Little beer, then you go home and be lonely and sad."

"I'm really tired," Sid says. Guilt curdles in stomach as soon as the words leave his mouth. He doesn't know why he's lying. Geno knows Sid likes men. Geno knows exactly how often Sid doesn't get laid. It should be easy just to spit it out, but the words stick in Sid's throat. "I'm going to head out. We've got an early meeting tomorrow, don't drink too much."

"Yes, Captain," Geno says. He's frowning, a little crease between his eyebrows, but he lets Sid go and steps away. "Sleep good."

"Thanks."

Sid tries to push the guilt down on the drive home. It's no one's business but his own what he does in his free time. 

There's a sleek, cherry red car in his driveway when he gets there. It looks like one of the ones Geno's always making noise about buying and another little pang of guilt hits Sid directly in the chest. He'll get over it. It was just a white lie, the same he's told a million time to get out of going places. He takes a deep breath and heads to the car. 

"Nice place," Gabe says when Sid knocks awkwardly on the roof. He stays close as he follows Sid to the door, one hand on Sid's hip, his chest warm against Sid's back. He leans down and nips at Sid's ear. "The suit is a good look on you." 

"That's what I've heard," Sid says as he unlocks the front door. He's brought exactly one hookup home before, and that hadn't been to this house. He _lives_ here. Everything that makes him up as a person is on display here, and it's one thing to share that with the people who already know him, but it's something completely different when it's a stranger. 

He wonders sometimes what people think when they see his collection of history books and fishing gear, wonders what people think about the art Taylor had helped him hang over a long summer break, teasing him the whole time to get him out of his bad mood. He wonders what he looks like from the outside, if people ever think of him as more than just Sidney Crosby, wunderkind. 

He locks the door and kicks his shoes off, still half in Gabe's arms. Gabe helps him out of his jacket and undoes the knot of his tie with deft fingers, his teeth flashing as he pulls it away from Sid's collar and tosses it over his shoulder. 

"Gonna give me the tour?" Gabe asks, hooking his fingers into the waist of Sid's pants. The Kings logo on his chest is needling Sid in the worst way. He grabs it and pulls and Gabe laughs, falling forward into him. 

"How about I show you the way to the bedroom?" Sid asks. It's about as smooth as he'll ever be. Gabe grins and kisses him. Sid is relieved, at least a little, that he's not going to have to actually go through the process of showing the house off. 

His bedroom is relatively spartan compared to the main rooms. He doesn't really have knick-knacks like his parents do, doesn't really collect stuff the same way Flower does. There's a single photo next to his bed of him and Geno with the Cup the first time they won it, both of them screaming wordlessly at each other, the Cup between them. He turns the photo face down while Gabe strips out of his shirt and ignores the feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach. 

It doesn't matter at all. 

\---

Gabe's still there when Sid wakes up, which is novel. Sid carefully slides out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats before heading to the kitchen. Skate is at noon, but he has the leader meeting at eleven, and if he's even a little late Kuni will sic Flower on him to figure out what's up, and Sid is in way too good of a mood to deal with Flower's occasionally overbearing questioning. 

The coffee has just finished brewing when he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs. He pulls down two mugs and pours. If he's lucky- and fast- he might be able to get Gabe into bed one more time before he has to leave. It's good to set goals, and Sid is excellent at that. 

"Fuck," Gabe mutters as he wanders into the kitchen, eyes squinted against the overhead light. "I forgot how shitty eight in the morning is." He's in just his tight briefs, all long legs and tan skin and bedhead. "You do this shit every day?"

"Today was a sleeping in day," Sid says as he pushes the extra mug and the covered glass bowl of sugar toward Gabe. "I'm usually up at six."

"Fuck every inch of that," Gabe says. He downs most of his coffee in one swallow, which makes Sid flinch just a little, and flexes his fingers in the rough direction of the coffee maker. Sid places the whole pot in front of him and hops up onto the counter. 

Gabe adds sugar to this cup and drinks it more slowly, eyes wandering around the kitchen. It's clean, at least, which is more than Sid can usually say. He hates doing dishes and feels too guilty to have maids come in more than once a week. Gabe rests a hand on Sid's thigh, fingers spread wide across the muscle, and by time Sid has finished his own coffee, it's creeped all the way up over his dick, Gabe's thumb rubbing back and forth over the head like they've got more than forty minutes. 

Sid has never had sex in his kitchen before. He doesn't like bringing people he doesn't know home, and Pittsburgh really isn't a place he can casually hookup. Plus, it's always seemed a little unsanitary. Gabe pulls on the waist of Sid's sweats and Sid thinks- fuck it. It's time to live a little. 

Gabe's mouth is hot from the coffee, and apparently three times is enough for him to have learned exactly what Sid likes. Sid closes his eyes and rests one hand on Gabe's head, the other scrambling to find something on the counter to hold onto. He has no leverage like this, and even though he could easily bench press Gabe's entire body, he's held helpless. It's thrilling.

He hears something crash just as Gabe gets a hand between Sid's thighs to press his thumb to Sid's hole, a ruthless tease that makes Sid's legs shake. For a second he thinks he's knocked something over but then he hears-

"Sid! I bring breakfast!"

"Shit, shit, shit-" Sid shoves Gabe's head away, feeling like a total asshole but unable to help it. Mario walking in on him that one time his rookie year had been one thing- embarrassing mostly, awkward definitely. Geno walking in- Sid jumps off the counter and yanks his sweats on as fast as he can. His dick tents them obscenely and Gabe's mouth is the sort of wet and puffy that only really comes from sucking dick. "Upstairs. Please. I'm so sorry."

Gabe has long legs, but Geno's are longer and Geno had the benefit of a head start. They nearly collide in the doorway, Geno's hands shooting out to catch Gabe around the shoulders. It's pure reflex, and Sid sees the exact moment that Geno realizes he's touching a total stranger instead of Sid himself. Fuck.

"Sup," Gabe says as he takes a step back. They really are close in height, Geno maybe two inches taller with his shoes on. They've got the same color hair, too, and Sid thinks- oh. He really does have a type. 

"Who you?" Geno asks. He's got his bully face on, the one that promises violence and spectacular hockey and hours of angry muttered asides in Russian. 

"Gabe. Nice to meet you." Gabe smiles and holds a hand out. For the first time all morning, Sid notices the purpling bruise on the side of Gabe's throat. He remembers biting down there when he'd come last night and feels a wave of heat work through him. Geno ignores Gabe and tosses the little paper bag in his own hand onto the counter. 

"See you at meeting," Geno says and leaves just as quickly as he'd shown up. 

"Fuck." Sid slumps against the wall a runs a hand over his face. He feels sick. He thought he'd have a little fun, be normal for a change. Shows what he knows. 

"I didn't take you for the cheating type," Gabe says. He sounds disappointed, which is fucking fantastic. 

"Geno's one of my teammates," Sid says. It feels cheap boiling the decade of their relationship down to just that, but at the root of it all it's true. "I didn't know he was going to stop by."

"You sure about that?" Gabe asks. "He looked pretty pissed." He doesn't sound like he thinks Sid is scum anymore, which is nice, but he also doesn't come any closer. Sid doesn't think he could handle it if he did. "He not cool with the whole dude thing?"

"He's Russian," Sid says and immediately feels worse. Geno has never once said or done anything but support him. Christ, Geno had been one of the first people on the team he'd come out to. Maybe Sid really is scum. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I planned on this morning going."

"No problem, man," Gabe says. "You might want to work that shit out though." Sid chokes out a humorless laugh. "I should probably head out."

"Yeah, alright." Sid walks him back upstairs and gets dressed on autopilot. All the ease of communication they'd had before is gone, the silence awkward and heavy. This, Sid thinks, is why he doesn't do hooking up. It always gets weird in the end. 

Gabe gives him a bro hug at the door after Sid locks up, pounding him on the back before getting into his car and driving away. Sid sits in his own car for a long time before finally manning up and starting the engine. 

Sid is early to the meeting. Geno is half an hour late. 

\---

Geno is ignoring him. Sid has seen Geno give the cold shoulder treatment before, but it's never been directed at him. He's not obvious about it, still plays two-touch before games, still goes through their handshake before they get on the ice in tight, perfunctory motions that are almost worse than not doing it at all. Every time Sid tries to talk to him, he finds an excuse to leave, his eyes never really landing on Sid's face. 

Sid doesn't understand, is the problem. The whole team lives in each other's pockets. Sid has seen Flower with a hand up Vero's skirt, has walked in on Olli bare-assed with girls from bars, has seen Geno himself on the receiving end of a blowjob. He's managed to keep his own exploits private, more out of necessity than out of any sort of consideration for his team, but the only difference he can think is that the person he had been caught with wasn't female. 

Maybe Geno really isn't okay with Sid being gay. Maybe it had been okay when Sid seemed sexless and unintimidating, but with real tangible proof it's different. Sid doesn't want that to be the truth, but- but Geno won't even look at him, and each text that goes unanswered and each call that gets directed to voicemail makes the sick, sad ache in Sid's chest grow until it's all consuming. 

"Come on," Kris says a week after Geno's silence started. He grabs Sid's bag before Sid can and heads towards the doors without waiting for any sort of response. Sid follows him because he has nothing better to do. He'd known he spent a lot of time at Geno's, but he hadn't realized exactly how much until it had been taken away. It's been killing him not to go Mario's and sulk. 

Kris holds Sid's bag hostage in his car, leading Sid through the familiar traffic and backstreets like a dog after a treat. Catherine and Alex are in the front yard, Catherine sorting through fabric samples while Alex valiantly tries to make a snowman with what little snow has fallen. It's small and muddy, but he looks like he's having the time of his life. 

"Look what I brought you," Kris says, scooping Alex into his arms. Alex screeches, flailing his arms and legs as Kris tickles him through his coat. He screeches louder when he sees Sid, launching himself from Kris' arms and into Sid's chest.

"Hey, Alex," Sid says. He's getting too big to be held, but Sid still sticks him onto his hip and nods along when Alex starts telling him about his snowman making process. It's very involved. 

"Watch him while I help Cath with dinner," Kris says. Catherine gives him a look that Sid has seen on his own mother's face before, fond and exasperated all at once, and Sid isn't fooled at all, but he still nods. 

It's easy to forget everything while playing with Alex. He still mostly only speaks French, but they're small words said slowly, and Sid never feels shy talking back to him in it. Alex, at least, has never given him grief about his verb conjugation. They work on the sad little snowman and Sid tries to answer the endless stream of questions Alex sends his way as best he can. They aren't about anything in particular- why Alex can't eat grass like cows do, why Sid's hair is black instead of brown like his, is Tanger faster than a tiger. Sid lies about the last one, but he feels justified when Alex shrieks with joy and proceeds to make tiny roaring sounds around the front yard.

When they're called inside to eat, both of them are sent upstairs to wash up. Sid's jeans are filthy and the world's saddest, most wilted tulip is tucked behind his ear, getting dirt in his hair, but he feels a little more like he can breathe right again. Little kids are easy. All they want is love and attention. Sid can give that. It's the adults he'll never understand. 

Sid stays through dinner, the heavy hanging thought that he's not going to be able to speed off towards home once Alex is taken upstairs not enough to disrupt the little joy of being part of someone's family for a least a short while. Alex gives him a sticky kiss on the cheek when the dishes have been put away, already dangling in a limp heap from Catherine's arms. Catherine gives him a much less sticky kiss on the other cheek, and then it's just Sid and Kris again. 

"Come on," Kris says. "I need beer for this." He grabs two from the refrigerator and shoos Sid toward the den. It's an explosion of brightly colored toys and half-made clothing patterns, messy and lived-in and perfect. Kris carefully clears off a patch of couch and flops down onto it, cracking his beer open. "So. What did you do to Geno?."

"I didn't do anything to Geno!" Sid fiddles with the lid of his bottle before Kris knees him in the thigh. "He-" Sid twists off the cap and presses the edges into his palm. It's something he did as a rookie, when he'd been too nervous to drink more than a beer or two around his older teammates, and it pisses him off that he's resorted to doing it now. 

"Okay, what did he do to you then?" Kris asks. He picks up a plush building block and dumps it into Sid's lap. Sid hates that prodding at its soft, well worn edges makes him feel better. "I haven't seen you two like this since… ever, actually."

"He-" Sid sighs and leans into the soft cushions. They smell kind of like little kid, like they should be sticky somehow. "Remember that guy from LA?" Kris raises an eyebrow. "We kept in touch. He was in town after the Leafs game. Geno walked in on us in the morning." Kris closes his eyes and drains his beer. 

"That explains that," Kris mumbles. He holds his hand out and Sid hands his bottle over. He didn't want it anyway. He still has to drive home. "Geno was a dick the whole time we were at the bar because he thought you were getting sick."

"I wasn't _sick_ ," Sid says. "I just… told him I was too tired to go out." Kris doesn't look any less unimpressed. "I've said that a hundred times to get out of going to bars!"

"Not to Geno," Kris says. He leans forward and flicks his hair away from his face. He's still too handsome for his own good, but there are little lines spidering out from the corner of his eyes, little divots next to his mouth that will quickly be hidden by a beard if Sid has any say in it. They're not kids anymore. "The first thing we teach the rookies is that if they want you to do something, they have to convince Geno first. He says you go, you go."

"That's bullshit, I don't-"

"One time, Sid," Kris says, holding up a hand. "Give me one time you said no to doing something Geno wanted to do when you weren't actually sick."

Sid opens his mouth, but gets stuck. The last time he can really think of anything had been when Geno had asked him to take a week with him in Russia during the summer. But then the concussion that refused to be stopped had happened and Sid hadn't been well enough for that kind of travel and- Sid clamps his mouth shut. 

"He only asks me to do stuff I already want to do," he says weakly. Kris rolls his eyes. 

"You hurt his feelings and now he's being an asshole," he says with a wave of his hand. 

"It's not like no one's ever blown him off to go get laid," Sid says. He pushes his fingers into the corner of the block, forcing himself to drop his shoulders. They're still too tight, his whole body drawn up into a coil, but at least he probably looks like he isn't shrinking in on himself. Kris downs Sid's beer too. 

"You never have," he says. He puts one hand on Sid's shoulder and the other on his face. It's uncomfortably intimate and Sid has to fight the urge to squirm away. "Sometimes, you have to use your big boy words. Can you do that for me, Sid? Use your big boy words?"

"Fuck off." Sid shoves him away. Kris smacks into the back of the couch, hand over his mouth to dull the sound of his laugher. 

"Your fucking face," he says when his stupid giggles have died down. "But seriously. Just talk to him."

"I'm fucking trying!" Sid looks up guilty towards the ceiling. Hopefully Alex's room is far enough away that he didn't hear. "He won't stay still long enough to listen."

"Then you be the bully for a change," Kris says, shrugging. "It's _Geno_. He'll come around. Now get me another beer and stop making me talk about feelings."

Sid eventually leaves with two more babysitting duties added to his bill and the weight on his chest just a little lighter.

\---

It takes a full week for Sid to have enough time to have the conversation he needs to have. Every time Geno snubs him, Sid forces himself to channel his frustration into determination. If he's going to win this thing, make Geno talk to him, he's going to have to want it more than Geno wants to shut him out. 

Wednesday morning, Sid double checks the PR calendar and makes himself eat breakfast. He does busywork around the house to keep his jitters down, which is stupid, but he can't help himself. It's just Geno, he tells himself. Sid has fought and laughed and cried with Geno too many times to count. He can fix whatever this is. 

At noon exactly he pulls into Geno's driveway. He had considered bringing lunch, but that made him think about the uneaten breakfast Geno had brought him, and well. It seemed like a bad reminder. He has a key, but he still rings the bell. Standing on the welcome mat, he takes a deep breath and steels himself for a blowup. 

"What?" Geno's voice cuts through the door, already irritated. He stops suddenly when the door is all the way open. He's sweaty and a little breathless, his basketball shorts sagging off his hips. His lips twist at the corners and Sid's stomach sinks. "I'm work out. Busy."

"I'll work out with you," Sid says. He's not really dressed for it, but that's never stopped him before. 

"Almost done, you not get good effort." Geno starts to close the door, but Sid shoves his shoulder into it and forces his way in. The front hall is small. It only makes sense to pass by Geno entirely so he has room to take his shoes off. 

"Then I'll wait," he says. "Come on. You shouldn't let your heart rate drop too much." Sid leads the way to Geno's gym, head up and shoulders back. If Geno wants to play this game, Sid will play too. He sets himself down on a vibrantly yellow balance ball and waits. 

Geno ignores him while he runs through his routine. Sid watches the bend and flex of Geno's knees while he does his sets of deadlifts, watches the bunch of muscles in his lower back when he moves on to split squats. This is maybe the most focused Sid has seen Geno during a workout since he was recovering from his knee surgery. He always gets the job done, but Geno is very much a complainer and talker. He hasn't said a single word yet. 

When Geno lays out flat on the floor and drags a barbell over his hips, Sid watches the careful tense and release of his thighs as he lifts up. He knows Geno's body the same way he knows Flower's and Tanger's and his own. He's watched the scar on Geno's knee fade from a violent, thick red tangle into the pink spidery lines it's become. He's seen Geno's chest wide and hard with muscle, seen him stringy and thin, has seen him grow into his too big hands and listened to him complain about the size of his calves a dozen times. 

He doesn't know if he's ever thought about fucking Geno, though. Teammates have always been off limits, and Geno has always been more than just a teammate. The idea of losing any part of him because of something as trivial as sex is horrifying. But as the slick legs of Geno's shorts creep up his thighs as he holds his last glute bridge, Sid thinks about putting his mouth right there, about how the skin would taste, about the way Geno would react. 

It figures, Sid thinks, that he would realize all of this at the worst possible time. 

Geno drags out his stretches, folded over and twisted up in a way Sid isn't ever going to be flexible enough to accomplish. Sid gets stuck staring at the curl of hair at the nape of his neck, starting to get too long. Sid brushes a hand through his own hair and immediately feels stupid. 

"Are you done?" Sid asks when Geno finally sits up from a pigeon pose that lasted for a minute and a half. Sid has tight hips. Even he doesn't hold that long. 

"Need to shower," Geno says. He wipes an arm over his forehead and grimaces when the sweat gets into his eyes. Sid doesn't laugh. 

"Fine." He retreats the living room before folding and going to the kitchen. Geno is a bottomless pit and putting together a half-hearted salad and a couple of sandwiches keeps Sid from barging into Geno's room like he wants to. There's takeout containers in the trash and more in the fridge. Geno can cook, but he's never liked it. It's something Sid does for him often, and Sid wonders if this is what Geno's been living on for the last few weeks. 

The fish-shaped clock above the TV reads 1:45 when Geno finally sits on the armchair farthest from Sid's seat on the couch. Sid shoves a plate and a bottle of water at him and waits. Geno is better than Sid at a ton of things, but patience has never been something in his arsenal. Sid eats his own sandwich in silence. 

"Why you here, Sid?" Geno finally asks. 

"We hang out all the time," Sid says. They do. They did. Sid has never needed an invitation into Geno's home. Not for years, anyway. He wonders if that's going to change. Geno presses his lips together. 

"I'm tell you I'm busy," he says. He's not looking at Sid, his head bowed far enough down that Sid can't really see his eyes. 

"I'm not," Sid says, at bluntly as he can. He needs to know where they stand, and he needs to know today. Geno's the most stubborn person Sid has ever met, but Sid has more on the line. "I've got all day."

"All day _for what_?" Geno stabs his fork into a hunk of lettuce and drags it across his plate, the tines screeching over ceramic. 

"Why are you mad at me?" Sid asks. He wants to feel glad when Geno freezes, clearly caught out, but mostly he's just tired. He misses his best friend. 

"I'm not mad." Geno shows his teeth in a mockery of a smile. 

"You haven't talked to me in two weeks," Sid says. Geno shrugs. It's infuriating. Sid curls his hands into fists on his thighs and takes a deep breath. "Are you mad because of Gabe?"

"Who Gabe?" Geno asks. 

"You know who Gabe is," Sid hisses. He take a another deep breath and forces the lump in his throat down. "I told you I have sex with men."

" _I know_ ," Geno says through clenched teeth. He leans his elbows on his knees and squeezes his hands together, like he's holding himself back. He's on the edge of breaking and Sid knows it, but he can't stop pushing. Not yet. 

"Are you mad that you finally saw proof?" Sid asks. He feels like his skin is stretched too tight across his bones, his heart jackhammering in his chest. He doesn't want Geno to be an asshole about this, doesn't want to lose the image of the good man he's built up over the years. "Are you mad that I'm not some- some Ken doll that doesn't fuck?"

"You lie," Geno shouts, a sudden explosion in the quiet room."I'm mad because you lie! You want fuck man, I don't care!" He slams his hand into the table and his untouched bottle of water rolls to the floor. "You lie! I think you sick, instead you-" He says something that sounds rude in Russian and Sid has had it. He's done. 

"Fuck you," he shouts back. "I'm an adult! I don't have to tell you what I'm doing or who I'm doing it with!" 

"You always tell!" Geno shoves at the table, the grating sound of the legs scraping across the hardwood jarring in the silence around them. "You tell me everything! I'm think you do. What else you lie? Why? You not trust me?"

"I trust you," Sid says. He deflates, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. A pounding headache is starting up at the back of his skull. He fucking hates yelling. "I just… didn't want you to know about Gabe."

"Why?" Geno throws up his hands.

"I don't know," Sid mumbles. Geno makes a disgusted sound and Sid punches the back of the couch. It hurts, the leather scraping his knuckles up, but it's better than the alternative. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to unclench his fist. "I just… I don't know. I didn't want to freak you out."

"When I ever freak out?" Geno asks. Sid stares at the scuffs on the floor and feels small. He shouldn't want to win this argument. Geno sighs and picks up the plate he'd knocked over. "You not want me meet boy, okay. Fine. You don't want tell me…" He presses his lips together, a familiar look of displeasure, and shakes his head. "Not my business, yes?"

"Geno-"

"No, you adult," Geno says. He grabs Sid's mostly full plate too and takes them into the kitchen. When he comes back, he sits on the couch, still a full cushion away. "You do what you want. Tell me, don't tell me. I don't care."

That stings. Sid _is_ an adult. He doesn't need someone to watch out for him, but Geno always has. He never thought he'd taken that for granted, but apparently he had. It's what he wanted, he guesses, but- But it still feels fucking awful. 

"You're my best friend," Sid says, because it's true. Because it needs to be said. 

"Okay, Sid," Geno says. He holds out a loose fist and Sid bumps it with his own. Sid should feel better- he used his big boy words like Tanger told him to, figured out the problem- but he's aware of every inch between them. It feels like a canyon. 

"I don't." Sid plucks at a loose thread in the upholstery and takes a deep breath. "I don't tell anyone about who I hookup with. It's not- it's not that I don't trust you. I just don't want to bother anyone." He expects Geno to laugh, or to remind him that Sid's favorite activity is bothering people, but Geno just watches him silently. "I'm okay if the guys are grossed out by gay sex. I really am. I get it. I don't care. But I can't let them be disgusted with me and still expect respect."

"Sid-"

"And I know that there's a lot of you that don't care one way or another, but I can't just whip out a story about going down on someone without things getting weird." Sid tugs the thread free and loops it around his finger, pulling until he can feel it pinching against his skin. "So it's easier if I don't mention it at all." The thread snaps and Sid shakes it off. 

The guys will always support him. The ones that matter, anyway. Sid knows that without question. They're a family more than they're a team, but Sid was raised in the same locker rooms, had his long time to deal with his own disgust at himself. Kris and Flower have had their hands in setting Sid up, have made the same nudge-wink good humor jokes at his expense that they've made to other guys leaving early to get laid. Even they've never asked about it, never wanted details, and Sid doesn't particularly feel like telling them. 

Sid startles when Geno pulls him into a suffocating hug, but he's quick to lean into it. He's missed this. No one hugs quite like Geno; tight and fierce and a little overwhelming if you're not ready for it. Sid tucks his face into Geno's shoulder and lets his anger drain away completely. 

"I'm never grossed out," Geno says. He pulls back, hands still on Sid's shoulders, and drops his head to meet Sid eye-to-eye. "Okay? Never."

"G-"

"No, shush," Geno says. Sid closes his mouth. He doesn't know what he was going to say anyway. Geno presses his lips together and sits back, his hands dropping into his lap. He looks down at them and sighs. "When I'm younger, I fool around with some boys. Then I'm come here and think, okay, no more of that. I still like girls. I get caught with girl, no problem. I get caught with boy-" He shrugs and offers a weak smile. "You want brag about trashy bar boy, I only judge you for bad taste in boy."

Sid can't quite breathe. He feels like he's been slapped, surprised and a little hurt and reeling from the impact. All this time- he'll never know everything about Geno, no matter how hard he tries. He tries to think about the Geno he'd met a decade ago, thin and slow to smile but unerringly friendly, kissing another man. Touching one. It doesn't compute. 

"Why didn't you say something when I came out to you?" Sid asks, because it's the only thought he's able to fully form. 

"Liking men was not important for me," Geno says, slow like he's considering his words carefully. "Not like for you. I get lonely, I want have sex, I find girl. When you tell me, I'm not ready share yet. Then is no reason to say, so I don't. But. Now is reason, so." He shrugs again, like he hasn't just dropped a bomb. "Air is clear, yes?"

"Yeah." Sid doesn't know what to do, but he figures, with Geno, hugs are usually the way to go. Geno tenses for a second before wrapping his arms around Sid's back again. "Thanks. For telling me now."

"You my best friend, too," Geno says. Sid's chest is tight, his head too full, but he just lets himself feel the tight squeeze of Geno's arms and the solid reassurance that they're going to be okay. 

\---

Sid should be sleeping. He's got a radio interview in the morning before practice and a promotional thing with the Steelers after, which means he's also going to end up at lunch with Antonio, which he's going to have to rush through before practice. It's going to be a long, busy day, and he _should_ be sleeping, but instead he's running crossover drills in the rink in the lower level of his house. The familiar rhythm of _push, pull, push_ is soothing, and he's hoping that the exercise will help wear his racing mind out. 

Geno likes men. Had liked men. Still likes men? Has slept with at least two before in any case. 

It's mind blowing. Sid wonders if this is what the guys had felt like when he'd quietly come out to them, like everything had shifted just off center. Sid sprints from one net to the blue line and back, eyes tracking across the ice like a puck might show up on its own. He needs to resurface it soon, but usually he offers to cook something from Geno's ridiculous and complicated cookbooks in exchange for the labor. 

He drops his hips and cuts a tight curve in front of the far net, sweat sticking his t-shirt to the small of his back. The sound of his skates slicing through the synthetic ice is almost loud enough to drown out his heavy breathing. He wants to know when Geno had first realized that what he was feeling wasn't just hero worship, wants to know how Geno felt the first time he'd kissed another boy, the first time he'd gotten himself off thinking about someone's cock instead of tits. He wants to know everything and knows exactly nothing.

Sid weaves around an imaginary defender, twisting his ankles to transition into a backwards skate. His hip is starting to ache, too much time spent skating in one direction, but he still feels wide awake. He needs to not think about it. He needs to not think about why Geno hadn't wanted him to know. He needs to squash down the fizzy crush trying to build a place in his chest. He needs to do a lot of things, but the problem is that he doesn't know what he wants. 

So, he skates. 

\---

Sid spends all morning Christmas Eve making dough. It makes him think of being a kid again, helping his mother bake, Taylor babbling away in her highchair. The house had always smelled like syrup and gingerbread for days, baked goods gathering up in the window sills until they were packaged away to be delivered to family and neighbors. It's been a long time since Sid's had the luxury of a _real_ Crosby Christmas, but he's made his own traditions. Relentlessly kneading butter into the dough also helps him to keep his mind off of those traditions. 

The past two weeks have been a blur of games and holiday events and constant calls from Taylor. For some reason, she's gotten it into her head that Sid has any idea what her sort-of-kind-of boyfriend- who he has yet to meet or even really talk to- might want as a gift. Sid is not a good gift giver. He can admit that without any shame, but Taylor has misplaced faith in him. Sid's sad he won't see her in person, but she's already made him promise to call first thing tomorrow morning so they can open their gifts together. 

Sid stuffs the dough into the fridge to chill and wipes down the worst of the mess before taking a shower. For the last six years, he's spent his Christmas Eves with Geno, exchanging traditional holiday movies and gorging on junk food. He hasn't been alone with Geno since their fight and his stomach twists a little at the thought of Geno bailing on him. 

Things have been…. good. Geno isn't ignoring him anymore. If anything, it feels like he's always around, laughing and inserting himself into Sid's personal space. He's always done that, unafraid to get close to Sid when other people have the tendency to shy away. They haven't talked about the giant bisexual elephant in the room, and Sid is itching with all the questions building up under his skin. 

He's in the middle of making the filling for the butter tarts when he hears the front door open. He lets out a slow breath and doesn't panic at all. This is normal. This is totally, completely normal.

"Yours isn't in there," Sid calls when he hears the crinkling of wrapping paper. He'd sent his family's gifts out two weeks ago to make sure they'd arrive in time, but there's a stack of gifts for everyone else on the dining room table. At some point, Sid has to actually deliver them.

"What? You don't get me gift?" Geno asks as he wanders into the kitchen. "Rude, Sid. I'm telling Taylor."

"Please don't talk to my sister," Sid says. Somehow he's got maple syrup under his nails and it's driving him crazy, but he's not going to deal with it until he's actually got the tarts in the oven. He loves cooking. He just wishes it wasn't so messy. 

"Nicer Crosby," Geno says. "She already give me gift." He sticks a finger into the mixing bowl and swipes up a sticky pecan, backing away before Sid can shoo him away. He sucks it into his mouth, eyebrows raised, and grins. Sid turns his attention back to spooning precise measures of filling into the pastry cups and ignores the heat creeping across his cheeks. 

"What did she get you?" Sid asks. His gift is still tucked under the tree, because he's not an impatient heathen like Geno. 

"Book about fairies, boot things for Jeffrey, and three pounds salo." Geno hops onto the counter next to the sink, watching Sid work. Sid tries not to make a face about the salo- it's literally just slabs of pig fat, that's gross- but he must fail because Geno kicks him. 

"Eat bacon like an actual person," Sid says. He fills the last cup and hands Geno the bowl and spoon. He meant for them to go into the sink, but Geno scrapes at the edges of the bowl and finishes the leftover filling off, making a delighted noise that hits Sid square in the gut.

"You not sophisticated," Geno says, nose turned up. He pronounces it with too many syllables, but he looks so proud of himself for using it all that Sid doesn't correct him. Sid's been Geno's English tester for a long, long time. "I'm not share."

"I'm heartbroken," Sid says as he puts the pan into the oven. The house is going to smell amazing in twenty minutes. "Did you order food?" Geno waves his hand and drops the bowl into the sink.

"Yes, yes, I'm do this before," he says. He leans back against the cupboards above the counter. His legs are long enough that his feet still almost touch the ground. Sid is a big guy, but Geno's a giant. "Have to feed you by two or you turn into monster." Sid scowls.

"I do not-"

"See? Is almost two." Geno grins and Sid punches him in the thigh. "Most cranky." He catches Sid's wrist when Sid pulls back to punch him again, laughing hard enough that he slips off the edge of the counter. He crashes into Sid, nearly knocking them both over. For a moment, Sid thinks about kissing him. He can feel Geno's breath against his temple. All he would have to do is tilt his head back just a little and-

"Oh my god, you're the worst," Sid says into Geno's shoulder. He shoves him away and retreats to the living room. Geno is Geno. Sid knows how to be with Geno, and that doesn't include kissing. 

"Me first this year," Geno says, heading straight for the entertainment center. They usually hang out at Geno's, but they always do Christmas Eve here, and the Christmas films stay in Sid's meager DVD collection all year round, collecting dust. One day, they should probably just buy the streams on Amazon or something, but Sid kind of likes the act of actually putting the DVD in. It reminds him of the VHS tapes he'd watched as a kid, and Geno doesn't seem to mind the extra hassle. 

"Geno, come on," Sid whines. He knows he's whining and _does not care_. "It's three hours long." They have this argument every year, but Sid has always been a sucker for doing what Geno wants. Probably, he thinks as he closes the curtains and turns off the lights, that should have been a sign. 

"You get first last two years," Geno says, popping the DVD out of its case and putting it into the player. His skin glows pale in the light of the TV, the shadows under his cheekbones showing off how sharp they really are. He snatches the remotes from the top of the entertainment center and fiddles with them until the screen lights up with the grainy, faded title screen. "Is my turn."

"I'm eating all of your eggrolls," Sid says. He curls up against end of the couch, settling in for the long haul. He thinks if he watches it enough times, he might be able to learn more Russian than yes, no, let's go, and fuck you. It's an idle thought, but a nice one. 

"This is lie," Geno says. He flops down onto the couch and presses a few more buttons on the remote to turn the captions on. The first year, it had taken them nearly an hour to figure out how to do that and Sid hasn't upgraded his crappy DVD player for fear of having to go through the whole process again. "You fill up with eggrolls, can't eat all tray of tarts." Sid laughs despite himself. "Quiet. We watch now."

Sid shuts up as the familiar animated opening starts up. He's watched this movie- it's actually a mini-series because Geno is a _cheater_ \- every year, but he still doesn't really get it. There's a dystopia where identical apartment buildings took over the world? And a weird love story about a man breaking into someone's apartment on accident because it looks like his and has the same key? But Geno loves it with the sort of fierceness that only comes from fond childhood memories, and he's always been happy enough to explain what Sid doesn't understand. It has to be a nice change of pace, Sid thinks, sneaking a glance over at him. Geno's so smart, but he never gets to show it off. Sid likes giving him the chance. 

Their food arrives as Zhenya's friends put him onto the airplane. Sid goes to get it and heads to the kitchen check on the tarts. They're a little dark on the top, but they smell amazing. He pulls them out, puts them on a rack to cool, and grabs a pair of forks and plates. They almost never actually use the plates, but Sid lives in hope that one day they'll learn to be civilized adults. It has to happen sometime. 

All of the food- and the tarts- are gone by the time Nadya lets herself into Zhenya's apartment for the big reunion. Geno is sprawled out on the couch, one hand resting on his swollen stomach right above the waist of his sweats, his head pillowed on Sid's thigh. Sid feels like his own stomach is going to pop, and he'd also like to lay down to relieve the pressure, but Geno is snoring softly and Sid doesn't have the heart to make him move. 

He isn't going to subject himself to listening to the depressing song at the end of the movie though. 

He switches over to regular TV, turns to the Science Channel, and settles in to watch the end of the Mythbusters marathon. If they don't get to _A Christmas Story_ tonight, there's always tomorrow. The lights on Sid's Christmas tree throw long shadows over Geno's face in soft crystal blue, and Sid watches the patterns dance over Geno's cheeks, over his parted lips. Sid wants to watch Geno's weird mini-series every Christmas Eve, wants to fight for the last tart even though they always end up breaking it in half, wants to have their traditional eggnog shot before bed, every year for the rest of his life. 

It's a dangerous thought. Geno has already said himself that he wants to get married, wants to have at least two sons. He might like to have sex with men, but he's not going to throw away the plan he's already laid out for his life for one. Wouldn't for Sid. And- it's fine. Sid can get over it, the same way he'd gotten over his boyhood crush on Jack. 

But for now- for now he lets himself have this quiet moment that's his and his alone. 

\---

Winnipeg is maybe the most boring place in all of Canada. Not that Sid will ever say so out loud. Not if he doesn't want to face down all of the Canadian press and Jonny. Still, bars are bars and there's never a dull moment with his team around. Somehow, Flower and Tanger have managed to talk Dumo and Olli into a dance-off. Jake is gleefully recording the whole thing on his phone, standing just on the outside of the little circle of space people have formed for their own safety. 

Sid is watching from the comfort of a booth, nursing his sixth beer of the night. He hadn't played his best hockey tonight, but Geno and Phil had played like beasts and carried them to the W. Geno, who is sprawled out in the booth and squashing Sid into the wall, has had four shots of whiskey and two neon pink drinks that Phil had brought over as _sorry I called you a hack past his prime when I was angry_ gifts. He's loose and happy, chattering away at anyone who will sit still long enough to talk to him. Sid is happy enough to just listen and drink. His thigh aches from a stray puck, but each drink makes the thought of the oncoming stretches and massages more tolerable. 

Flower gathers Kris into his arms and dips him dramatically. Sid can hear Horny whooping over the music and the voices all around them. Kris flicks his hair and Sid thinks, not for the first time, that Cath is a lucky lady. Geno wraps his arm around Sid's shoulder and yanks him in, knocking their heads together when he leans in to whisper-shout into Sid's ear. 

"Boy in blue at bar," Geno says. Sid blinks at him, trying to figure out if they'd been having a conversation he'd forgotten about. Geno rolls his eyes and grabs Sid's chin with three fingers, turning Sid's head where he wants it. "Boy in blue. You like?"

There's a guy leaning against the bar in a blue polo. He looks like he's in college, his blonde hair in a neat crew cut, his khakis the sort of crisp that means they cost way too much. He looks like he probably spends most of his time behind a computer instead of under a set of weights, and he isn't particularly tall. He's got an alright face under his ugly aviator glasses, round and boyish. Sid glances around the booth, but they've been abandoned for the dance off. And Sid- Sid thinks fuck it. He never gets to talk about this stuff and Geno's asking.

"He looks like he wants to be an accountant," he says. Geno's still holding his face, so the words come out a little garbled. He steals a glimpse at Geno from the corner of his eye. "Is that the kind of guy you like?" Geno makes a dismissive sound and turns Sid's head in a different direction. 

"Waiter?" Geno asks. His mouth is close enough to Sid's cheek that Sid can feel the warmth of his breath. The waiter looks kind of like Flower with frizzy red hair and a full beard. It's a little alarming. He shakes his head, Geno's nose bumping into his cheek. "What you like? Show me." 

"G-"

"Pick," Geno says, his voice right in Sid's ear. Sid swallows hard and reaches for his beer. The most attractive man in the bar is sitting right next to him, hogging all the space and sneaking drinks of his beer when he thinks Sid isn't paying attention. Sid takes a look around anyway, trying to find the next best thing. 

"Him," Sid says, tilting his chin toward the guy leaned over one of the pool tables. He's built like a swimmer, long and lean and wide at the shoulders. His jaw is sharp and his mouth is wide, his hair a riot of dark curls . Geno squeezes Sid's shoulder and hums. 

"Of course you like big," Geno says.The back of Sid's neck heats up. 

"What about you? What do you like?" Sid asks, hoping it sounds casual. He doesn't need to have clearer ideas about Geno's past hookups- he's been filling in his own gaps late at night when he can't sleep- but he _wants_ to know, if only to put himself out of his misery. 

Geno looks around for a moment, the corner of his mouth twisted. The dance off seems to have broken up, but Olli is currently riding on Flower's back towards the bar, so it seems to have been amicable. Sid fights the urge fidget and polishes off his beer instead. The flight tomorrow is going to be hell. 

"Him," Geno says. He turns Sid's head where he wants it, his chest pressed tight to Sid's side. "With hat." 

The man in the backward ball cap is short but wide, his white t-shirt tight enough to show the definition of his pecs, the width of his biceps. He's got a cute face with an upturned nose and a pointed chin. Sid closes his eyes and tries not to wonder what Geno's like in bed, if he likes having power over those big, stocky guys or if he likes them to make more practical use of their muscles. He _doesn't need to know_. 

"You like big, too," Sid finally manages to say. Geno laughs and waves the Flower-alike over for more drinks. 

It takes both Horny and Dumo to pour Sid into the cab when the team finally decides to leave, which will be incredibly embarrassing when Sid is sober enough to remember how to be embarrassed. Kris walks him to his room and feeds him aspirin and water, mumbling under his breath. Sid nearly falls over when he tries to get out of his shoes but somehow manages to catch himself. In that moment, it feels like the most accomplished thing Sid has ever done in his life.

"You are a mess, my friend," Kris says with a sigh. "Please don't choke on your own vomit." Sid throws him the finger and collapses into bed. He's really, really not looking forward to tomorrow morning. "I am going to make sure your worse half isn't dead."

Sid ignores him and stuffs his face into the cool pillows. He tells himself very firmly that he's not allowed to imagine Geno sucking off Hat Guy and then does it anyway. 

He's so screwed.

\---

They've got a game on actual Valentine's Day, but they've all been given a rest day for the thirteenth. Sid is repaying one of his babysitting duties for Tanger, and somehow Flower has sweet talked his way into the deal. Not that Sid minds. Estelle is adorable and Scarlett has Alex wrapped around her tiny fingers. Today is going to be a piece of cake. 

"Now, Sidney," Kris says, Alex hanging upside down from over his shoulder, little legs kicking out alarmingly close to Kris' face. "You're allowed to have one friend over. We expect this house to look like it does now when we get back. No parties." He almost makes it through the whole thing with a straight face. The only reason Sid doesn't punch him is because he doesn't want to be a bad influence. 

"You're hilarious," Sid says. Kris sets Alex down and he's gone like a shot, probably to track down the girls. At least Sid won't have to worry about any fights breaking out. "Have fun, don't puke, don't ass dial me mid-coitous ever again."

"No one holds grudges like you," Kris says, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Thanks again, man."

"No problem. Have fun." Sid accepts cheek kisses from Vero, Cath, and Flower and locks up behind him. He's not a big fan of sleeping over at other people's houses without them in it, too, but he's always kind of liked Flower's house. It reminds him, a little, of his grandmother's place, warm and inviting and safe. 

The kids are currently playing with a weird mix of blocks and G.I Joes. Sid never tries to understand the rules with kids' games, just goes along with everything as it comes. He sits himself down next to Scarlett and makes sure no little pieces go into mouths. Scarlett keeps handing him blocks with a big smile, and eventually Sid has to redistribute them to the kids and the process starts all over again. 

He makes it all the way until naptime before he calls in the calvary. He loves the kids- they're great, and so damn smart, and Scarlett wears her affection boldly out in the open- but if he has to answer one more question about why green is green or if he's going to get married and have his own babies soon- well, nothing. He'll do nothing because they're essentially all still toddlers, and they're just curious, but he might actually go crazy. 

So, he calls Geno, who is also riding the stag wagon for today. Geno shows up half an hour into naptime with _Frozen_ , three stuffed bears, and a box of chocolate. He hands the box over to Sid with a grin. 

"Buy Valentine's presents for all babies," he says. Sid elbows him, but he still takes the chocolates. They're from the tiny shop just outside of the Mexican War Streets that is hands down Sid's favorite in the whole city. It would be a waste to abandon them out of pride. 

"We're not watching that," Sid says as Geno takes over the armchair in the living room. The floor is a dangerous mess of pointy toys that Sid keeps stepping on, and some of the cushions from the couch have been repurposed into a sad, leaning fort in the corner of the room. He's definitely going to rope Geno into helping with the cleanup. 

"Is good movie for kids," Geno says. "Good for self-esteem."

"You just like _Let It Go_ ," Sid says. He prys open the lid of the chocolates and picks a truffle covered in a starry purple glaze. The candy shell cracks as soon as it touches his tongue, the soft, bitter chocolate spilling out. He groans and closes the box, setting it up onto a high shelf. He's not sharing. 

"Is good song," Geno says dismissively. "Plus, reindeer is cute."

"Help me clean up, and I won't tell Flower you cry about the parents every time," Sid says. He loves, just a little, that Geno has never once had a feeling he didn't need to share with the class. Well, Sid thinks as Geno sighs and begins picking apart the fort, he mostly shares everything with everyone. Sid wonders what other secrets he's kept and has to shake himself out of it. Not his business. They've already had this argument in reverse. 

The living room is mostly in habitable condition when the kids wake up. Scarlett is sweet and clingy when Sid lifts her from her crib. She's almost too big for it and Flower's been making noise about getting bunk-beds for the girls' room. Sid remembers how small she'd been the first time he'd held her, her little fuzzy head barely the size of his palm. Time passes so fast these days. 

Geno, as always, is a big hit. 

Sid clears out of the way as Estelle and Alex run toward him, all of their quiet naptime lag left in the dust. Estelle latches onto one arm and Alex onto the other, and Geno lifts them up easily, his biceps bunching under little hands. The kids shriek and Sid takes that as his que to head to the kitchen to handle snacks, Scarlett a warm, cozy weight in his arms. 

"Sid is very excite for movie," Geno says when Sid returns with juice boxes and apple slices. The TV is already on, the opening credits playing. Estelle is cuddled up to Geno on one side, her arms wrapped tight around her stuffed bear, and Alex is sprawled out in front of the TV on the floor. Sid gently places Scarlett down next to him. He sighs and hands out his goods, settling in on Geno's other side. "You ask nice, he sing with you."

"Chanter," Alex says brightly. He looks at Geno and then repeats himself in English. He's slowly learning that he can't always speak French and be understood. It's a little mind-blowing to watch him turn into an actual person. Sid wonders if Tanger always feels this struck by awe, or if he's gotten used to it. 

"Ask nice," Geno says. 

"Sing please?" Alex asks. Geno gives Sid a shit-eating grin and Sid bites down the instinct to flip him off, smiling and nodding instead. Alex claps and turns his attention back to the television. Sid, because he is a sucker, _does_ sing along to some of the songs. Geno sings along because he's actually a five year old trapped in an adult body. 

There's a little meltdown after dinner. Scarlett seems to have finally realized that her parents have been gone for too long and she becomes inconsolable. Her little face scrunches and she shouts for Vero between hiccuping sobs. It breaks Sid's heart and sets Alex off into his own fit of crankiness. Estelle, who has always been Sid's favorite, ignores all of them to watch hair braiding videos on the iPad in the living room. 

"Divide and conquer," Geno says, scooping Alex into his arms, ignoring the little fists that pound at his chest. He looks at Sid over Alex's head and the face he's making is familiar. He's not thrilled to start in on this adventure, but he's going to win or die trying. "Why you mad?" Alex babbles at him in French between bouts of hiccups. Sid can barely understand him, and Geno has no hope at all, but Geno still nods. "Yes, all very bad. Tell me more. I fix."

His voice is quickly drowned out by Scarlett's wails. Sid carefully unbuckles her from her high chair and lifts her up. She's filthy with spaghetti sauce and smashed noodles, and she immediately sticks her snotty face right into Sid's neck, which is gross, but Sid feels like he's probably calming her down. He ducks into the living room, cradling Scarlett closer to his chest. 

"One more video," he says, "then brush your teeth and get ready for bed." Estelle makes a face but reluctantly nods. One out of three isn't bad in the scheme of things. Scarlett lets out another ungodly wail and Sid winces. She's just tired, he thinks to himself as he carries her upstairs. He's not that bad at this. She's just tired. 

Probably he should give her a real bath, but that seems like a little too much stress for both of them. Instead, he talks at her- mostly about Flower, because he feels like she probably appreciates hearing about a familiar person and Flower is mostly a really good guy so it's easy to say nice things about him- as he wipes her down with baby wipes. She objects to being put into her sleep clothes, but her crying is slowly dying down, replaced with big yawns. 

"You've got your daddy's lung capacity," Sid says as he settles her into her crib. She lets out another sad sound before flopping into her blankets, little arms wrapping around the stuffed shark next to her pillow. Sid waits until she's fallen asleep to leave, tucking the baby monitor into shorts pocket. 

"Is not so bad," Geno says as Sid gently closes the door to Scarlett's room. He's leaning against the wall, legs and arms crossed, shirt thoroughly soaked through. "We good babysitting team."

"You'll be a good dad," Sid says, because it's true. No one loves as strongly, as fiercely, as Geno does. He'll make sure his kids never want for affection. Geno smiles, soft and a little sad, and nudges Sid with his shoulder. 

"You, too," he says. "All six Crosby babies have good care." Sid shoves his wrist against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Six is probably way too many, but three seems pretty manageable. "Need husband first."

"It's going to be awhile then," Sid says, and it doesn't even taste bitter in his mouth. Geno throws an arm around his shoulders and steers him towards the stairs. It's only seven o'clock and Sid needs to watch or do something that makes him feel like a grown up before he goes to bed. 

"He be lucky," Geno says softly, squeezing Sid in tighter to his side. "Only best for you, okay?" Sid's chest feels too tight, but he makes himself laugh anyway. 

"Sure, G," he says. "You, too."

Sid washes up and joins Geno in the living room. The TV is on low, and the familiar sounds of hockey are a relief. Sid steps over the pile of toys he'd spent forever putting away _one hour ago_ and collapses onto the couch. Kids are like little tornadoes. 

He remembers watching through to at least the second period- Detroit was somehow down four against the Leafs, which had been interesting- but he must have fallen asleep because he jerks awake when a hand lands on his shoulder. He blinks up at the blur over him and wonders for a second if he should panic. Then his eyes adjust and he sees Kris' familiar grin and he figures it's probably too late to panic, anyway. 

"You know, I hear the guest bed is very comfortable," he says. Sid groans and abruptly realizes that Geno is underneath him, one arm dangling off the couch, his fingers curled against the floor, the other wrapped around Sid's back. "It snores less, too."

"Fuck off," Sid mumbles, fighting the urge to press his face into Geno's shoulder to block out the dim light coming in through the curtains. He can hear the sounds of Scarlett waking up through the baby monitor on the table, can hear Alex's little voice mumbling about going to the zoo, which means that there's a least a small audience to Sid's embarrassment, which is nothing new. 

"You're free to go," Kris says, slapping Sid's ass. Sid jumps, which makes Geno jump, and Sid finds himself abruptly on the floor. Kris laughs at him, because Kris is an asshole. Geno rolls over, shoves his face into the cushions, and goes back to sleep. 

Overall, Sid thinks as he picks himself up, the night went well. 

\---

_looks like we're gonna be in ny at the same time._

Sid looks down at his phone, thumb tapping against the side. He hadn't expected to hear from Gabe again. He doesn't think he can ever sleep with him again, not after the last bad showing, but it would be rude to ignore him. Still, he glances around before responding. He's not hiding. He's _not_. He just doesn't want his nosy teammates getting into his business. He sends back a simple _yeah?_. His phone buzzes almost immediately. 

_ive got a dj gig that night. you and your bros should come when youre done sporting. lmk._

The game in New York isn't for another week. He's a little touched that Gabe paid enough attention to look it up, a little nervous that Gabe thinks they're going to hookup. He's got time to think about it either way. He's about to give his best non-response when the bench shakes. 

"Taylor?" Geno asks. Sid is hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. His fingers twitch toward the lock button, but he leaves it open so Geno can see the tiny picture bubble with Gabe's face in it. It's not a particularly flattering shot, but Gabe had put it in there himself. The corner of Geno's mouth twists, but he doesn't pull away which is a nice change of events. "He here again?"

"No," Sid says, probably too fast. "He said he's got a DJ thing in New York when we play there. He, uh, wanted to know if the team wants to go to it after." Geno plucks Sid's phone from his hand and turns away, ignoring Sid's flailing attempt to grab it out of his hands. "Geno! Give it back!"

"You lie, say we all boring," Geno says, bracing himself against the bench and flinging an arm out to block Sid's next approach. Whatever he's typing won't be much- he still hates the English keyboard ten years later- but Sid still doesn't want to have to change his number. Again. "Here." Geno turns, thrusting Sid's phone against his chest. "Go shower. You stink."

"You stink," Sid replies automatically. Geno shoves a hand that smells like pad reek directly into Sid's face and laughs the whole way to the shower. Sid waits until he's turned the corner to unlock his phone. 

_we will go_ is all Geno wrote, but it still seems a little ominous. Sid takes a deep breath and strips out of his gear. Fine. They're going clubbing in New York. No big deal. 

\---

Sid doesn't forget about the club thing, exactly. He's just busy and it's not really at the top of his priorities list. 

On Monday, he has three phone interviews, all of which he does from the comfort of Geno's couch, watching Geno finally go through his video games to put the discs back into their proper cases. They'd tried to play _Left 4 Dead_ and found _Catherine_ instead. Sid doesn't know what _Catherine_ is about, but there's a busty anime girl on the lurid pink disc, and that's maybe all he does need to know. 

Wednesday, he stays after practice to work with Olli on board battles. He's tired and hungry, but Olli had asked and Sid never says no to someone actually looking for his help. Olli's getting better, and Sid really does believe he'll get there soon, but even Sid's got his limits. He calls it off after an hour and takes Olli out to lunch once they've cleaned up, then reports for babysitting duty at Tanger's. 

Thursday, they crush the Flames and immediately board the plane to New York, most of them still wet from the shower. Even Sid, who lives and breathes for hockey, hates back-to-backs. 

"So," Flower says when the cabin lights have been turned off. The familiar sounds of the team settling in are just as soothing as the steady hum of the plane's engines. "I finally get to meet this boy of yours?"

"What?" Sid struggles for a second with his too small travel pillow. He's been flying for basically half of his life, but he's never found a comfortable sleep position. 

"Mister rockstar," Flower says, batting his eyelashes. "Three dates, Sidney, and you haven't brought him to meet the family yet." Sid groans. 

"None of what we did was dates," Sid whispers. He can already hear Horny snoring, but not everyone falls asleep quick on the rides. There are a few quiet voices, some of the boys calling their wives and girlfriends, and Jake hasn't fallen asleep on a single ride yet, no matter how hard he tries. "And he's not my boy. We just. You know."

"You hussy," Flower says. His teeth look especially sharp in the dim light. "I am both shocked and proud."

"Please don't," Sid says. He doesn't think anything is going to go wrong, but he's also never learned to let any tiny kernel of worry go either. 

"They grow up so fast," Flower says, because he's a horrendous asshole. "But seriously. Multiple times. That's new."

"It was convenient," Sid corrects. "Seriously. Don't make this a bigger deal than it is, please."

"I wouldn't," Flower says. He ruffles Sid's hair and grins. "Just glad you are turning into a real boy."

"You're such a dick," Sid says, and Flower laughs loud enough that Kuni throws a water bottle at him to shut him up. 

\---

Winning definitely makes what comes after much easier to face. Sid hadn't gotten a single point, but Geno had played like a man possessed. He's been having the best year of his career, and Sid can't wait to see what else he's got to bring. The guys are loud and obnoxious in the room, talking over one another and wrestling on the floor. They've got a late flight, which means it's going to be a long night. 

They head back to the hotel and Sid changes into jeans and a v-neck. It's not exciting, but it's what he's got. He spends five minutes in the bathroom trying to figure out if he should gel his hair or not before finally chucking the container back into his bag. He's not getting laid tonight. He already committed to that. There's no reason to get fancy. 

Not everyone is going to the club, but Sid's still a little embarrassed at the size of the group. It takes three taxi to get all of them there. Sid rides squished between the door and Jake in the back seat because Bones had called shotgun before they'd even left the lobby, which was _cheating_. Jake's a good kid, but every once in awhile he seems to remember who Sid is and totally clams up. It's equal parts flattering and uncomfortable. 

Sid's almost glad when they're finally inside. The music is loud, heavy on bass and low on lyrics, and the smell of _bar_ is almost as familiar as the smell of the rink. Plus, Sid isn't above drinking his way out of an uncomfortable situation. He can always deal with the hangover in the morning. 

Geno orders Conor to buy the first round before sprawling over more than his side of the booth. He's in a pair of ripped jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his hair pushed back into some sort of order. The edge of his chain is just visible over his collar and Sid can't stop looking at it. Those are definitely his get laid clothes. Sid tries to ignore it, but there's a rip high up on Geno's thigh that shows bare skin where there should be underpants and that takes up a lot of Sid's mental space.

"This music terrible," Geno says, nose turned up. Sid laughs. It sounds exactly like the shit Geno plays too loud in his car. Geno kicks him in the shin and only Bones' disappointed face keeps Sid from kicking back. 

It feels like a normal night out. Geno is loud and handsy with anyone who even thinks of coming near him, Olli has left and come back four times with new numbers, and Flower and Tanger have gone off to hustle the locals at darts. Sid almost forgets about Gabe altogether until a hand slaps down onto his shoulder. 

"Gabe, hey." Sid fights his way out of the booth and gives Gabe a one-armed hug. It's perfectly innocent, but Sid still feels the back of his neck heat up. 

"Sid! Good to see you, man." Gabe thumps him on the back and pulls away. He looks good, even with the big obnoxious sunglasses. 

"You, too," Sid says. He does the appropriate round of introductions, shifting awkwardly when he gets to Geno. Geno stands up and offers a hand, the other resting on Sid's shoulder as he frees himself from the short booth. It's the only apology Gabe has any hope of getting. Olli seems charmed, at least, and Conor still thinks being around celebrities is a big deal. One day, Sid thinks as he watches Conor go a little starry-eyed, he'll realize he's a celebrity, too, no matter what Phil says. 

"I've got to get back," Gabe says. He looks around Geno at Conor and Olli and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Want to run the set for a minute?"

"Fuck yeah," Olli says, dragging Conor along by the shirt. He looks over his shoulder and points a finger at Geno. "Don't drink my beer." 

"No one's going to drink your beer." Sid awkwardly thumps Gabe on the shoulder. "Thanks for the invite."

"No problem." He leans in and smacks a kiss to Sid's cheek that's highly inappropriate, but messy enough that Sid's not worried about it. "Go get 'em, papi." Gabe swats Sid's ass and winks. He throws his arms around Olli and Conor's shoulders and steers them toward the DJ platform, his voice already fading into the music. 

"That kind of guy you like?" Geno asks. He's hunched over to talk directly in Sid's ear, the noise all around him leaving no other choice. Sid tries not to shiver at the warm gust of his breath. "He skinny."

Sid laughs. Gabe _is_ skinny, but he plays a lot of soccer in his free time. His stomach is flatter than Geno's. Geno is looking at Sid like he's expecting an answer. When Sid shrugs, his shoulder butts up against Geno's chest. 

"He's tall," Sid says. He can't stop watching the way the flashing lights change the landscape of Geno's familiar face. "He's funny." Sid's heart is beating fast, racing to catch up to the relentless bass coming from the speakers. They're so close together. "He speaks Spanish." Geno turns into him and slides his hand down Sid's arm to his hip. Sid feels like he's going to wake up any second, angry and confused and heartbroken. 

"I'm taller," Geno says. He is. This close, all Sid can see is the curve of Geno's jaw, the shape of his mouth. "I'm more funny." He is. Geno's thumb strokes over Sid's hip, solid pressure Sid can feel through the denim of his jeans. "Russian is best." Sid is more than willing to put that to the test. 

He tilts his head back, the rough catch of Geno's stubble scraping across his cheek. Geno's other hand snakes around to the small of Sid's back, his fingers spread wide across it. He pulls, just enough that Sid can feel the way he's getting hard. If he wanted, Sid could reach forward, could tuck his fingers into that high up tear on Geno's thigh and feel the shape of him. 

"Come to hotel with me," Geno says. His lips brush over Sid's temple as he speaks and Sid feels like he's going to burst. 

"Yeah," he says. There's no way Geno heard him, but he rocks his hips against Geno's to send home the message. There is nothing more on this earth that he wants more than to do just that. "We should- Let's go."

"Я заставлю тебя забыть каждого человека, который когда-либо прикасался к тебе," Geno says against Sid's skin, and Sid concedes. Russian is definitely better than Spanish. 

They catch a taxi at the end of the block. Sid gives the name of the hotel and tries not to jump out of his skin when Geno rests a hand on his thigh. He stares blindly out the window for the entire drive, every last bit on his attention focused on the warm weight of Geno's touch. 

Geno pays for the ride and drags Sid through the doors with a hand around his wrist. Sid's mostly sober, but he can't stop laughing. Geno's fingers tighten and Sid laughs harder. It's weird having all of Geno's determination focused on him. Weird, but definitely good. He trips getting into the elevator, but Geno catches him with an arm around his waist. 

"Ты хочешь," Geno says as he pulls Sid against his chest. He brushes his lips over the shell of Sid's ear and Sid shivers. He's hard, his dick pressed uncomfortably down the leg of his pants. Geno's hand is so close, his fingertips just under the waist of Sid's briefs, toying with the elastic band. "Я даже не знаю, с чего начать."

Sid jumps when the elevator comes to a stop. Geno laughs at him and shoos him into the hallway. Geno's room is closer, so Sid steers them toward it, jittery excitement bouncing under his skin. Geno fumbles for the room key and has to swipe it twice before the door pops open. It's gratifying to see that he's affected just as much as Sid is. 

The room is dark, but Sid's spent literal years of his life in hotels. He kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto the floor. He already feels overheated and a little frantic. Geno laughs again and grabs Sid by the waist, dragging him back in. He's just a shadow in the dark room, but Sid knows his face so well he doesn't need the light. 

"Hey," Sid says, because the silence is killing him just a little. 

"Hi," Geno says back. He places a gentle hand on Sid's cheek, his thumb stroking along the arch. He leans down and kisses Sid carefully, sweetly. "Okay?" 

"Definitely." Sid slides his fingers under the hem of Geno's shirt, stroking the warm, soft skin above his belt. He has no idea what he's doing, but nothing is going to stop him. He deserves this. He can have this. 

They leave the lights off, elbows and shoulders and hips bumping as they undress themselves next to the bed. Sid trips getting out of his jeans and lands hard on the bed, which screeches and smacks into the wall. He really, really hopes whoever is on the other side went to the bar. Geno laughs and lunges. Sid doesn't have a chance to dodge. 

This is not the first time Sid has wrestled with Geno. This is not the first or sixth time that he's wrestled with Geno shirtless. No pants is new, though. Geno's skin is warm and distracting. He's so long everywhere, and Sid wants to touch every inch of him. Geno pins him easily, knees spread over Sid's thighs, his weight pressed down on the hands he has around Sid's wrists. 

For a moment, Geno just looks at him, steady and inscrutable. It's uncomfortable. Sid's eyes have adjusted enough that he can see the shadow of Geno's eyes, the flash of his tongue over his lower lip. Sid does his best not to squirm. 

"Ты красивый," Geno says as he skims his lips over Sid's jaw. "красивый." He slides his hands down over Sid's arms, fingers tracing the curve of Sid's biceps. Sid can feel the heat of his cock right over his belly, so close but just out of reach. Geno sets his teeth against Sid's collarbone, the threat of a bite that leaves Sid's skin tingling. "Я хочу погубить тебя."

Sid rests a hand on Geno's head, curls his fingers into Geno's hair. He knows what his body looks like. He's never once been ashamed of it, but no one has ever paid as much attention to it before. Geno's mouth is warm and the occasional touch of his tongue to Sid's skin is random enough that Sid can't zone out on the feeling. Geno runs careful hands over Sid's sides, his thighs, dips them into the tiny space between Sid's back and the mattress to pull Sid up against his mouth. 

He's still talking, his lips ghosting over Sid's stomach, his voice a low, steady sound that makes Sid's cock ache. Geno could be saying anything, could be mocking the whining, breathy noises Sid keeps making, could be talking about all the other people he's slept with before. Sid doesn't think he is. Geno is many, many things, but he's never been cruel. 

"What you want?" Geno asks. He looks up and Sid's cock twitches, the head butting against Geno's cheek. Sid refuses to be embarrassed about it. It's not his fault Geno looks the way he does right now. Geno laughs softly and turns his head just enough to press his lips the base, his dark eyes still watching Sid's face, waiting for an answer. 

"I- This is good." Sid reaches down to wipe away the shiny wet spot on Geno's cheek and feels like he's sixteen again, fumbling around for the first time with another boy. Geno nips at Sid's fingers and sits up, which is the exact opposite of what Sid wants. "G?"

"Up," Geno says, pushing gently at Sid's legs. "Bed at home better. This one too small." 

Sid doesn't know if that means Geno's bed will be available to Sid in the future, or if Geno's just talking to talk. He doesn't want to spoil anything by asking. Instead, he sits up against the headboard and lets his knees fall open. Geno stares at him, still sitting back on his knees, huge and looming. 

"Geno, come on," Sid says. He wants Geno to stop looking at him like that, but he also really, really wants to get off. 

Geno kisses him again. It's messy and a little rough, all of Geno's patience used up in a flash. Sid tries to reach between them to finally, finally get a hand on Geno's cock, but Geno bats him away. He mutters something against Sid's mouth and pulls away, sinking neatly into the space between Sid's thighs. 

Sid can't see much of Geno's face from this angle, but he can see the broad expanse of Geno's shoulders, the curve of his ass. The shadows leave his edges hazy and turns his skin almost blue. If there's a next time, Sid wants the lights on. He wants to really, actually see everything. 

Geno hooks his thumb around the base of Sid's cock, holding it up for his mouth. When he sucks a wet kiss to the head, Sid groans. He's been hard for what feels like forever and that's _Geno_ sucking him off, slow and steady. Geno takes his time learning what Sid likes, adapts with each favorable sound Sid gives him. Sid isn't usually very vocal in bed, but positive encouragement is always good for development and Geno is an excellent learner. 

Between the tight, wet heat around the head of his cock and the fingers stroking over his balls and the sight of Geno's body spread out so carelessly, Sid feels overwhelmed. 

"Geno," he says. Geno hums, which is an incredibly good feeling against Sid's cock, but doesn't stop. "Geno- I want to-" Geno sucks a little harder and Sid jerks. "Fuck, stop, come up here." 

"Why you stop me?" Geno asks as he sits up. His voice is rougher than usual, his lips puffy and wet. 

"I want to touch you, too," Sid says. 

The bed really is too small, but eventually Sid gets Geno over top of him, warm and heavy and strong. He hauls Geno down to kiss him, hungry for the contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when Geno rocks his hips forward, dragging their cocks together. Sid reaches between them and wraps his hand around them both. It's an awkward angle, but it feels good enough that Sid doesn't care.

"Ты так хорошо," Geno says against Sid's jaw. He rolls his hips up into Sid's hand and Sid thinks about Geno fucking him, about spreading Geno's long, long legs and getting inside him. This is good, but Sid is always going to be ready for better. For the best. He wants Geno to look at him like this all the time. 

"Fuck, Geno." Sid grabs a handful of Geno's ass and pushes his own hips up. He's so close he can feel his orgasm coiling in his stomach. He wants to come. Doesn't want to. Wants to stop so he can return the blowjob. Never wants to let Geno move away from him again. "Fuck." Geno gives a particularly dirty grind of his hips and it's over. Sid is done. He moans as he comes, messy and hot between them, his hand still working out of rhythm over their cocks. 

"Так хорошо, Sid. Дай мне смотреть." Geno sits up enough to get his hand around Sid's, finishing himself off with a grunt. He folds forward brushes a gentle kiss over Sid's cheek. The sweetness of it feels strange with their jizz drying on Sids's stomach, but Sid will happily take it. 

Sid ends up squashed between Geno and the wall. They haven't had roommates for years, but sometimes they still end up with doubles at the hotel. Geno just drew the short stick. Sid wishes, a little, that he'd had the patience to go to his own room. He'd have a little more wiggle space, at least. He doesn't mind the press of Geno all along his side, though, or the leg thrown over his thighs, keeping him in place. 

"When is bus?" Geno asks, squirming around to grab something off the floor. A sudden flash of light completely ruins Sid's nightvision. Geno groans and turns the brightness of his phone down, eyes squinted against it. "Sid? Bus?"

"Eleven," Sid says. Geno pokes at his phone before fumbling at the nightstand for his charger. "Uh- we should probably-" Talk? Do it again before the regret sinks in? Promise not to be weird in the morning?

"No, shush." The bed rocks a bit as Geno turns onto his side, one of his arms resting over Sid's chest. "Alarm set for seven. We get breakfast in morning."

"I'm not sleeping like this," Sid says, which is stupid, but his mouth is moving without him. 

"Good shower in morning," Geno says. They're undeniably cuddling. Geno's head is heavy on Sid's shoulder, his hair tickling against Sid's chin, the steady in and out of his breath ghosting over Sid's chest. Sid hesitates before resting his hand on Geno's shoulder. He's hot and a little tacky with sweat, but his skin is smooth and soft under Sid's fingers. 

"What are we doing, Geno?" Sid asks. He can hear the TV playing in the next room, the sounds of someone stumbling through the hallway, either drunk or half asleep. 

"Sleeping," Geno says. He rubs his thumb over Sid's hip, a touch that's neither careful or pressing for anything else. 

"I'm serious. What are we doing?" Sid turns onto his side, ignoring Geno's grumbling as he's moved around. They're still so close, but Sid can see Geno's face, which is the best lie detector Sid can manage right now. Geno's the worst liar Sid knows. 

"What you want me say, Sid?" He asks. He looks tired, his eyes half open and the corners of his lips turned down. Sid wants to- he doesn't know. He's sick of not knowing. 

"What you want," Sid says. He needs to know what to expect. Anything can be made reasonable, doable, with a solid plan, but Sid can't start that until he's got more information. "Just tell me what you want."

"Just you," Geno says. He brushes his fingertips over Sid's jaw, feather light, and kisses Sid's forehead. "When I'm first come to Pittsburgh, I'm see pretty boy, think I'm not mind take to bed, but is not possible. Sidney Crosby not like boys, I'm not sleep with boys anymore anyway, is okay."

Sid closes his eyes as Geno's fingertip traces his cheekbone. He tries to remember what meeting Geno had been like, but it's been so long. Mostly he remembers being excited he was going to play with _Evgeni Malkin_ , and later sickened by the story Gonch had relayed about Geno's long trip in. 

"Then you are…. You." Geno makes it sound like a compliment. "You good, Sid. Best at hockey, yes, but you nice and you help me with speaking, you laugh at my jokes even when I'm tell wrong. You make it more easy to be away from family. I'm get little crush. I'm think no big deal, you know? Still not possible, so nothing for sad, yes? Then you tell me you only like boys. Is bigger deal then."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Sid asks. He tries to think of any sign Geno had given of being interested, tries to think of how Geno treats the other guys and how Geno treats him. Geno strokes his fingertips down Sid's spine, eyes closed as he thinks.

"You never want talk about boys," he says eventually. "I don't know what you like. Don't know if you have boyfriend or want boyfriend. Don't know if you want _me_. Why I'm say?"

Sid doesn't have an answer for that. He wonders what he would have done at nineteen if Geno- goofy and earnest and so good at hockey- had come onto him. He probably would have panicked, shoved Geno away, and lost the potential for one of the best friends he's ever had. Maybe, he thinks as Geno spreads his hand over the small of his back, it's good they both had to wait. 

"And now?" Sid asks. 

"Already have cake," Geno says, pinching Sid's ass. Sid knees him in the thigh. "Maybe… date? See if we work, yes?"

"Yeah," Sid says. It feels like there's explosions going off in his chest, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed. Of all the things he'd expected of tonight, this was the last thing he could have predicted, but it's- It's so good. 

"Good," Geno says, pressing a tender kiss to Sid's forehead. "No more trashy LA boys."

"Gabe wasn't trashy-" Sid's cut off by Geno rolling on top of him, one big hand landing over Sid's mouth and nose. He can't really breathe, but Geno's smiling at him, small and warm, and Sid doesn't really need the air right now anyway. 

"Trashy," Geno repeats. He pulls his hand away and kisses Sid again. "Sleep. Bus very early."

 

"Eleven is almost noon," Sid says. They've had this argument before, but Geno flourishes at night and will probably never learn to be a morning person. Geno ignores him, wiggling under the covers and gesturing impatiently for Sid to do the same. 

For a moment, Sid hesitates. He thinks, just a little hysterically, that if he goes to sleep, he'll wake up and everything will have just been a dream, a cruel trick of his mind. Fuck it, he thinks, and shoves himself against Geno's side, soaking in the warmth of his body. He deserves this. 

\---

Sid wakes up at six, because he is very much a creature of habit. Geno is warm behind him, his steady breaths stirring the hair at the back of Sid's neck. His soft cock is nestled against Sid's ass and his fingers twitch against Sid's stomach right below his belly button, light enough to tickle. Geno's heartbeat is steady and strong against Sid's back, and it feels safe. Geno has him. 

He doesn't think he moves, but after a few minutes Geno's breathing changes. He makes a soft, curious sound before burying his face into Sid's hair. The hand on Sid's hip squeezes and Sid is abruptly aware of how much time there is before bus call.

"Рано," Geno mumbles. He slides his hand over Sid's stomach, pulling Sid against him. "Спать. Sleeping." His voice is rough from sleep, but it sounds pretty close to the way it had last night, and arousal curls in Sid's stomach.

If he pushed back, if he turned his hips just right, Sid is almost positive he could entice Geno into another round. It sounds good, but this is nice too: Geno's steady breaths, the beat of his heart, the way his thumb is rubbing back and forth Sid's stomach absently, pausing every few moments as Geno starts to fall back to sleep. Sid usually doesn't do well falling back to sleep once he's awake, but he thinks he might be able to this time. 

Geno's alarm wakes him up the second time. Geno grumbles into Sid's hair before pulling away and slapping at the nightstand until he finds his phone. Sid rolls onto his back and stretches. He doesn't want to get up, but he's starving and the has to go back to his own room to change at the very least. 

Geno groans, tossing his phone back onto the dresser, and rubs a hand over his eyes. In the leak of light from the curtains, his skin looks almost golden. The scar on his cheek stands out and Sid runs a fingertip over it. He's wanted to for a long time. It's gratifying to finally feel the geography of it, to have the permission to familiarize himself. He traces the curve of Geno's ear, the edge of his jaw. Sid wants to touch him all over to match the face he's watched change over the years to feel. The corner of Geno's mouth twitches.

"Meet you downstairs soon," Geno says. He leans down to press a kiss to Sid's forehead. It's gentle and a little unexpected, and Sid feels… good. He feels really, really good. "Go or we miss bus."

"They wouldn't leave without us," Sid says. 

Still, he reluctantly rolls out of bed and pulls on last night's suit and flattens his hair as best he can. Geno's still gloriously, unashamedly naked, hands pressed to his eyes, knees sprawled open wide. Sid allows himself one last long look before he forces himself to leave. 

"Sidney," a voice says as Sid quietly closes the door behind him. Sid startles, thumping back against the wall hard enough that his teeth click. "Is this a walk of shame?"

"No?" Sid hesitantly meets Flower's eyes. Something flashes there for a brief moment, and then Sid finds himself abruptly pulled into a hug. 

"You and Geno, huh?" Flower asks. Sid shakes his head, his nose bumping painfully against Flower's pointy face. Flower squeezes him tight and then steps back. He looks gleeful, like he's just pulled something terrible off and is pleased with himself. 

"Is-" Sid's not going to ask if it's okay. He likes Geno. Geno likes him. That's the only part that matters. "Is that a problem?" 

"Sid," Flower says, his smile fading away. "I will never understand why you see Geno's ugly mug and get a stiffy." Sid pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to breathe through the growing panic. This isn't his thing to tell. There isn't anything _to_ tell yet. "But I want you to be happy. You're a good guy. Geno, he's not so bad. You're both crazy." He pauses and frowns. "No dick stuff on the plane. We don't get to bring our girls with us. If you start getting laid more than we do, the world will end."

"Fuck you," Sid says, biting back as much irritation as he can. Flower would say this shit to anyone. It's not disgust. It's chirping. There's a difference, Sid tells himself. 

"I am smart enough not to poke the bear," Flower says. "Also, your tits are too small for me." 

"I'm going to my room now," Sid says. He hesitates. "Don't- don't tell anyone." Flower opens his mouth and Sid shakes his head. "I mean it, Marc, don't tell anyone." 

"Alright, Sid," Flower says. He grins and punches Sid in the shoulder. "I really am happy for you, you know?"

"Sure," Sid says and flees down the hall to the safety of his room. It's fine. Everything is fine.

\---

Flower keeps giving Sid significant looks on the flight back to Pittsburgh. He's half vibrating in his seat, his concentration on _Counter Strike_ completely blown, which sucks in particular because he's supposed to be Sid's partner and he keeps dying. Sid elbows him when he blows both of their tiny avatars sky high. 

"Fucking focus, man," Sid hisses as he respawns. Tanger is running his mouth, but Sid has learned to block him out over the years. He snipes Kuni just before the match ends, but it's not enough to make up for Flower's incredibly unsubtle sidelong glances. "I'm out."

"Sore loser, Croz," Kuni says, but he's already pulling out his phone to call home. 

Sid pulls out his own phone to discourage Flower from asking any questions, scrolling through his texts. Taylor sent him a photo of her boyfriend's dog, which is sort of cute in a smashed faced, slobbery way, and Nate has sent him four texts comparing his teammates to fruits, which Sid doesn't wholly understand. His phone buzzes in his hand as he's trying to figure out how, exactly, Barrie is like a kiwi. 

_have talked ur boys into getting gabey baby tattoos. send pics_

_If they're that stupid you can get them to send the pics themselves_ , Sid sends back. He feels a little bad that he skipped out on the party without really saying anything to Gabe, but he wouldn't change it if he could. 

_ill get your ugly logo if you join the gabey baby club_

_NO_

"You hussy," Flower says directly into Sid's ear. Sid jumps before rabbit punching him in the shoulder. Flower winces but doesn't move away. "For that, I am not sharing my candy."

"For that you owe me candy," Sid says. He gets distracted by a booming shout from the back. He twists around just in time to see Geno throwing his cards at Horny, who really is a perennial cheater. Beside them, Conor shoves his head under his travel pillow. Sid really, really hopes Gabe was joking about the tattoo thing. 

It's a mercifully short flight. Sid has enough time to get some lunch and a nap before he's due at the rink for tape review. He hustles out to his car and shoves his bags into the back. He's starving and last night's lost sleep is starting to catch up to him. 

"Sid!"

Sid shuts the door and looks up. Geno's jogging toward him, his duffle bag bouncing against his leg. His tie is long gone, but he'd put his waistcoat back on when they'd got off the plane. It's a good look for him. He comes to a quick stop next to Sid and grins sheepishly. 

"What's up?" Sid asks. There's a tiny red mark just visible in the spread Geno's collar. Sid doesn't know if he should keep looking at it or up at Geno's face. It's a harder choice than it should be. 

"Sunday night, you busy?" Geno asks. 

"No," Sid says immediately. He's got a signing appearance in the morning, but that should be over before three, sooner if he manages to dodge getting roped into giving soundbites for the Trib site. He's said basically the same thing for the past six years, but that never stops the reporters from swarming him at any opportunity. 

"Come to my house?" Geno asks. "I cook for you?" Sid laughs and Geno takes a step back, his face falling. 

"Wait, no," Sid says, reaching out to grab Geno's wrist. He can feel the thrum of Geno's pulse under his fingertips. "I want come over. Just- you're going to cook?" Geno turns his nose up, and Sid realizes he's just thrown down a challenge whether he meant to or not. He's either going to be eating something burnt or something four-star quality. Either way, just thinking about it opens up a warm space in his chest. 

"You come at six," Geno says. He turns his arm enough that he can grab Sid's hand and squeeze before backing away. "Sleep good. See you soon."

Sid watches him until he rounds the corner of the carpark. Shit. He's got a date. 

\---

On Sunday, Sid drives to Flower's place as soon as he's done with his signing. It's just after two- he'd actually, really hid inside an empty room until he'd seen the Trib guy leave, which isn't his proudest moment, but needs must- and Flower had said the whole family had planned on spending the off day at home. Sid would feel a little bad about interrupting, but if he sits at home for the next four hours he'll just think himself into a pit. So, he knocks on the front door and tries to look like he's not freaking out. 

"Sid?" Vero asks, her eyebrows drawing together. "Is everything okay?"

"I need to borrow one of your kids," Sid blurts. It probably says something that Vero just shakes her head and waves him off towards the play room. 

Estelle is building something out of Legos. It doesn't really have much of a shape other than _lumpy_ , but she looks like she's having fun. Sid waves and makes a beeline to where Scarlett is making faces at a small army of stuffed toys. She squeals when he picks her up, but doesn't seem to be bothered by it. She smells like powdery baby shampoo and curls into his chest easily, babbling at him. 

He gets a solid five minutes of just holding her, soaking up her easy presence, before Flower flops down next to them and Sid's abandoned. Probably he should have gone to Tanger's- Alex almost always picks him over Kris, and Kris doesn't currently have any dirt on Sid to make the experience miserable, but for the first time ever he wants to actually talk about it.

"Is this a bad day or a good day?" Flower asks as he peppers kisses over Scarlett's face. She laughs and smacks at him with her hands, shouting _no_ , which is her new favorite word. Estelle gives all three of them an unimpressed look and adds a few more red Legos to her structure. 

"Good, I think," Sid says. He feels a little like he's going to throw up, which is stupid. He's spent more collective time with Geno than he's spent with his family. It's just dinner at Geno's. They've done it a million times. There's no need to worry. 

"So good you have to break into my house?" Flower asks. He hefts Scarlett above his head and she shrieks with joy. Sid's chest aches as he watches her eyes light up. He's not an idiot, and he tries not to lie to himself. Next year, Flower will be in Las Vegas, and Sid won't be able to do this. No more plane buddies, no more Flower hijinks, no more Scarlett and Estelle and Vero. He's learned how to get over losing teammates, but Flower is so much more than a teammate. 

"I didn't break in," Sid says, catching one of Scarlett's flailing feet in one hand. She squirms to be released and promptly toddles over to slap at her sister's Lego monster. "Vero opened the door."

"How about we have a talk, yes?" Flower doesn't wait, just pushes himself up and brushes his jeans off before wandering away. Sid takes another look at the girls- Scarlett with her big bright eyes, Estelle patiently showing her how to stick the Legos together- and follows. 

Flower leads him all the way into the game room. It's the place Sid has spent most of his time in, sunk down into the plush leather chairs or sprawled across the floor, drunk and sober. The TV is off, but Flower still settles into one of the armchairs and nudges the one closest to it with his foot. Sid sits. 

"So, why do you need my baby on your good day?" Flower asks. In for a penny, Sid thinks. This is what he wanted.

"I- uh." He looks over his shoulder, but the girls are probably still in the playroom and Vero isn't in sight. "I have a date tonight."

"With Geno?" Flower asks. Sid can tell he's trying not to smile, but Flower has whatever the opposite of resting bitch face is. He always looks overjoyed at the world. Sid nods. "It will be fine. You think everything he says is funny, he thinks you've got a great ass, you have very much in common, it will be a good date." Sid scowls, but the confirmation is nice. "I told Vero, which does not count because we are one beautiful unit, but have you told anyone else?"

"No."

"Are you going to?" Flower asks. A knot of unease forms in Sid's throat. He shakes his head. "You know we've got your back, right?"

"I don't think anyone knows about Geno," Sid says. Gonch, maybe, but for as much as he's still around, it's not the same as teammate anymore. He's not as close to them as he once was, and Sid wonders if that bothers Geno or not. "And if it doesn't work out, it's not worth it to work anyone up over. I can't lose anyone's respect this close to playoffs, and I can't do that to Geno, either. He's too important."

"You have our respect," Flower says quietly. He leans in closer, his hands dangling between his spread knees. Sid stares at his long fingers instead of meeting his eyes. He doesn't want to have this conversation again. "You're our captain, which is very important, but you're our friend. Everyone here loves you. We want you to be happy."

"I'm not going to risk it," Sid says. Not now, not with that second cup on the line. Not now, when Geno might change his mind. Any freedom earned wouldn't be worth the cost of admission. Flower frowns but doesn't push. "I should head out. I've got to get ready." 

"You should tell Mario," Flower says. Sid recoils. He doesn't even want to think of the ramifications of this with the HR and PR departments. "Not for the team. Not everything is about the team. He cares about you. He will be glad to know you aren't alone."

"I'll think about it," Sid says. He kisses Vero on the cheek before he leaves and waves goodbye to the girls. He feels a little better, which he supposes is mission accomplished.

At home, he showers again and changes into jeans and a gray t-shirt. Dinner at Geno's, Sid thinks as he hovers at the bathroom counter, poking at his hair. He doesn't have to dress up. Geno has seen him at his literal worst, covered in tears and snot and dried vomit. If he's still interested after that, Sid's fluffy duck hair won't bother him. Sid tugs his necklace from under his collar and adjusts the clasp. This is as good as it's going to get. 

He settles in on the couch to wait, picking at his nails. It's hard to sit still and he can't focus on the TV long enough to actually settle on something to watch. All of his baby calm has evaporated. This is _Geno_. This whole thing is huge, and the weight keeps threatening to drop on him. He leaves at exactly five thirty and drives at a snail's pace to get to Geno's. He's still five minutes early, but he thinks that can probably be forgiven. 

"Hi," Geno says when he opens the door. He steps back to let Sid in, closing the door behind him. It's getting warmer, but there's still snow on the ground, and Geno is surprisingly prissy about being cold. 

"Hey," Sid says, and hopes it sounds normal. Geno's nose is a little pink, and he's got a bruise on his cheek and a cut at the corner of his mouth. There's a spray of what's probably flower over his hip, stark white against the hem of his dark t-shirt. 

Sid rocks up and kisses him, Geno's lips warm against his. Geno leans back against the wall and pulls Sid with him, boxing himself in, and nips at Sid's lower lip. It takes a long time for Sid to step back. His hair is probably a total wreck, and Geno's mouth is considerably redder than it was before. 

"I invite you over more if this how you say hi," Geno says. He's slumped on the wall, his hips pressed forward, his jeans pulling tight over his hips. It's a really good visual. 

"I'm already here all the time," Sid says. He can't stop staring, which he knows is weird and rude, but he thinks he's allowed, so it's probably okay. 

"Is good plan, then," Geno says. His phone beeps and he makes a face. "Take off coat. Dinner almost ready." He disappears off toward the kitchen and Sid starts the process of removing all his layers, carefully hanging them up on the hooks next to the door. 

He follows his nose into the kitchen. Geno's at the sink draining pasta, his arms stretched fully to avoid the splashback as he dumps the whole pot with little finesse. Whatever he made smells good. Sid had signed all the way through lunch and then been too worried about ruining his appetite to eat later, which is stupid. They're almost at the end of the regular season. He's _always_ hungry. 

"What did you make?" Sid asks, leaning over the counter. There's a bottle of red wine next to the sink, two glasses already set out next to it. Geno shakes the strainer and puts the pasta into a serving bowl. 

"Stroganoff," Geno says sheepishly, ducking his head. He hands Sid the pasta bowl and grabs a pot holder from a drawer. "Is my best recipe. Dining room? Is too messy for couch." 

It takes a couple of trips to get everything to the table, even with Sid helping. There's a lot of food for just the two of them, but Sid's pretty sure they'll put a decent dent in it. The wine is the last thing on the table, and Geno hands it off to Sid to open. It's weird sitting at the huge table with just the two of them, but Geno sitting next to him instead of across from him helps. 

"It's really good," Sid says around his first bite. It is, too, rich and savory and just on the right side of too heavy. Geno's been holding out on him all these years. 

"Of course is good," Geno says, chest puffed out. "I make."

"You can cook more often, then," Sid says, reaching for the plate of thick sliced bread. It's a little sour and definitely has more vinegar in it than Sid's used to, but it tastes good with the stroganoff. 

"I'm not take away your hobby," Geno says. "Is good for you to have. Too much hockey make you boring, and then you sad." It's a bullshit excuse and they both know it, but Sid really does like making food for people, and Geno is always more than willing to heap praise on it, which is a nice bonus. "Taylor send you picture of Brad's puppy?"

"Stop talking to my sister," Sid says by route. He loves his sister, but she's prone to breaking out the embarrassing kid stories at every opportunity, and Sid tries to keep up some sort of respectable appearance. It's good to know they get along, though. It might help if this whole thing gets serious enough to tell her about. 

Sid eats more than he probably should, but Geno seems inordinately pleased every time Sid refills his plate. They talk about their families- Denis apparently is looking at moving toward St. Petersburg, which Geno is displeased by for reasons he doesn't have enough words to explain- and about their vague late summer plans. It's easy, familiar conversation. Sid's warm from the food and the wine, and Geno's been inching closer over the course of the meal. 

"I cheat on dessert," Geno says when Sid finally pushes his plate away. "I'm buy baklava from Salim's." Sid groans and leans into Geno's side. He doesn't think he can eat anymore. Not even Salim baklava. Geno laughs and carefully lays an arm over Sid's shoulders. "Later, yes?"

"Yes." Sid isn't really sure where to go from here. Usually, they watch a movie or play video games, but that doesn't feel particularly date-like. To be fair, almost nothing else about this has felt date-like either. But maybe, Sid thinks as Geno gets up to clear the table, that's sort of the point. It's still just them. Just, hopefully, with more sex. 

"Flower knows," Sid says as he helps load the dishwasher. It breaks the easy mood a little, but he has to be honest. He's learned that much at least. "He saw me coming out of your room in New York." Geno pauses at the sink, wine glasses still in his hand. Sid focuses on lining the plates up on the top rack, his heart beating fast in his chest. "He won't tell anyone."

"Not for now," Geno says slowly. He gently moves Sid out of the way to put the glasses in and closes the dishwasher. "Is very early, yes? But, maybe, if we still do this in a year, we tell?" 

It should probably be intimidating to think about that- dating Geno for a year, for longer, for maybe forever- but mostly Sid just feels giddy that Geno's even suggested it. It's almost too easy to rock onto the balls of his feet and kiss Geno, then. Geno's hands are damp where they're trapped against Sid's chest, and he's clearly not ready for it, but they adjust pretty easily. 

"We should go to the living room," Sid says when he finally has to fall back down onto his heels. He knows Geno's tall, he's always known that, but this close he _feels_ how big Geno really is, and he's not ashamed at all about how hot that gets him. Making out might be easier if they're sitting, though. 

"Or," Geno says, resting his hands on Sid's hips, "we go upstairs?" His tongue swipes over his lower lip, leaving it shiny and pink, and Sid's dick twitches in his jeans. 

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, let's do that." Geno grabs Sid by the shoulders, flips him around, and marches him toward the stairs. 

They do, eventually, make it to Geno's bedroom, but Geno keeps reaching up to grab Sid's ass, and the experience of kissing Geno from above is a little novel. Sid doesn't mind the frequent stops, and Geno doesn't seem to either. Sid closes the door- Geno's house is open to more people than Sid is wholly comfortable with on a regular night- and turns on the light. Geno raises his eyebrows. 

"I want to see," Sid says. 

"Хочешь слышать, хочешь видеть," Geno says, moving back towards the giant monstrosity that is his bed. "Ты очень жадный." 

He pulls his shirt off and drops it onto the floor. His jeans sit low on his hips, showing off the cut of his hips. He hooks his thumb into the waistband, dragging it down further. Sid's cock is pressing uncomfortably against his own jeans, fully interested in the impromptu strip show. He reaches down to adjust himself and Geno's eyes follow his hand. 

"Давай," Geno says, popping the button of his jeans. He pushes them down slowly, and Sid's mouth goes dry. "Возьми что хочешь."

Sid doesn't know what Geno's saying- doesn't really care as long as he gets to hear the steady, low rumble of Geno's voice- but he knows what давай means. He yanks off his own shirt, shucks his jeans off, and goes. 

Geno laughs and lets Sid push him down onto the bed, his thighs falling open. Sid sinks between them and kisses him again. He shivers when Geno slides a hand under his briefs, spreading his fingers wide to cup his ass. Geno's cock is trapped against Sid's stomach, thick and hard and hot enough to feel through the cotton of his underwear. Sid grinds his hips into it and Geno groans.

Sid sits up and Geno stretches out, tucking his hands under his head. He pokes his tongue out and raises his eyebrows. He's such a smug asshole at the best of times, but Sid still feels a tug of heat in his belly as he takes Geno up on his shameless offer. 

Sid spreads his hands out over Geno's collarbones, his thumbs framing the pendants resting there. There's just so much of him. Sid swipes his thumbs over Geno's nipples, drags his nails through the patch of hair between Geno's pecs. He traces the shape of Geno's abs with his fingertips and laughs when Geno twitches away from him. When Sid rubs his palm over the swell of his cock, Geno's thighs tighten around Sid's waist. Sid presses his fingertips against damp cotton and Geno's eyes fall shut. 

"Tease," he says. 

"I'm not a tease if I plan on getting you off," Sid says. He rocks his hips against Geno's ass once- underappreciated, Sid thinks, Geno's ass is _great_ \- and backs away. Geno opens one eye and makes a face. Sid laughs and tugs at Geno's briefs.

"You, too," Geno says as he kicks them off. "Давай." Sid does as he's told and Geno takes his distraction as a cue to flip Sid onto his back.

"Hey!"

"You interrupt last time," Geno says. He kisses the hinge of Sid's jaw and Sid shivers. "Be good. Let me finish." Geno nips at Sid's adam's apple and leans down to brush his lips over the head of Sid's cock. Geno's bed really is better for this. 

Sid props himself up on his elbow so he can watch. Geno licks a long line up Sid's cock and sucks the head into his mouth, his eyes hooded but locked on Sid's. Sid touches the scar on his cheek, the pale corner of his lips where they're stretched wide around him. Geno turns his head into Sid's palm- like a cat, Sid thinks a little hysterically- and sinks all the way down, his mouth hot and wet and _perfect_.

He's sloppy and slow, his hands braced on Sid's thighs, holding them apart. When Sid grabs at his hair, harder than he'd meant to, Geno makes a soft noise that vibrates all the way into Sid's bones. He pushes up against Sid's hand and Sid gently guides him up and down, fighting the low hum of thought in the back of his head that wants him to just _push _and _take_ and _fuck_. __

__He tilts Geno's head back, his cock sliding free with a wet sound, the tip resting against the full swell of Geno's lips. Geno grins and sticks his tongue out, pressing it to the underside of Sid's cock, completely shameless and definitely the hottest thing Sid has ever seen. He lets Sid look for a moment, long enough to store it away properly, before he pushes Sid's thighs farther apart and ducks his head to mouth at Sid's sac._ _

__"Fuck." Sid falls back onto the mattress. He wants to keep watching, wants to see _everything_ , but he can't hold himself up anymore. Geno curls his fingers around Sid's cock and jerks him off slowly, his tongue darting out over Sid's skin. " _Fuck_. G, I'm gonna-"_ _

__He flails until he can get a hand in Geno's hair, pulling his face away. Geno laughs and Sid can feel it on his skin, and he hadn't planned on coming on Geno's face, but it's too late now. He squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts up against Geno's hands, swearing with what little breath he's got left. Geno jerks him through him, mumbling something that Sid can't catch. He kisses one of Sid's shaking thighs and sits up._ _

__There's pale streaks of come on his cheek and over his neck, and his mouth looks tender and shiny. He wipes the back of his wrist over his cheek, and Sid's cock gives one last pathetic twitch. Sid grabs at him with clumsy hands and Geno laughs again as he stretches out beside him, the wet tip of his cock brushing over Sid's hip._ _

__"I'm gonna get a complex if you keep laughing at me," Sid says._ _

__"Is good." Geno kisses the corner of Sid's jaw. "Sex is fun, yes?" He grinds his cock against Sid's hip, his breath hitching. Sid really, really wants to return the favor, but he doesn't think he's going to be up to the task. "Laugh because I'm enjoy myself." He palms Sid's ass and squeezes. Sid squirms until he can turn onto his side, sliding his thigh between Geno's. He rubs his thumb over the tip of Geno's cock and Geno makes a soft, wounded sound._ _

__"Next time," Sid says as he wraps his hand around Geno's cock, "I'm going to blow you. Stop distracting me."_ _

__"Whatever, yes, okay." Geno's hips snap forward, and Sid does his best to just keep a good grip for Geno to fuck into. He nudges his knee up behind Geno's balls and feels them go tight. Geno's fingers dig into Sid's ass as he comes, wet and sticky hot over Sid's fingers, over his hip._ _

__Sid pats Geno's hip weakly and lets himself fold into Geno's open arms. They stay there for a long moment, Geno's nails scratching looping, meaningless patterns against Sid's back. Sid listens to Geno's heart rate slow down and tries to catch his own breath. Next time, he thinks again. He wants to know what else Geno is unbearably good at._ _

__Geno eventually pulls away. The bed creaks and Geno mutters to himself as he disappears off into the bathroom. Sid stretches out on the gigantic mattress and tries not to laugh. He guess Geno's right; there's nothing funny at all, but he's just so damn happy._ _

__Geno comes back after a moment and cleans Sid's thighs off with a few quick swipes of a warm cloth, then carefully wipes off his stomach. It's not as good as a shower, but it'll do for now. Sid rolls over and Geno pulls the covers over them before he fits himself against Sid's back, wrapping him up in a lazy hug._ _

__"Good first date?" Geno asks, his lips brushing over the back of Sid's neck. It tickles and Sid squirms a little to get comfortable. He's already a little too hot, sweat sticking his back to Geno's chest, and he has the feeling the covers are going to be gone in the morning, but he doesn't want Geno to move away from him. They're problem-solvers. They'll figure something out._ _

__"Good first date," Sid agrees. He slides his thumb over Geno's knuckles, learning the feel of the crisscrossing scars there. Geno turns his hand over and presses his palm flat against Sid's._ _

__"We do again tomorrow," Geno says firmly. Sid smiles and closes his eyes. They've got a leader meeting early, and video review after practice, and he's pretty sure Geno is supposed to call the people working on his upcoming clothes line tomorrow night. There will be barely any time to eat, let alone do all of this all over again, but Sid can stand to just be around him while he goes about his business._ _

__"Sure, G," he says around a yawn. "Whatever you want."_ _

__"Cпокойной ночи," Geno says against Sid's hair. Sid tries his best to repeat it back and figures that, probably, he's got the time to learn to say it right._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me over at 


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